Faking It
by SoManyAnchors
Summary: What do you do when you find your best mate/crush kissing your other best mate on the day you were going to declare your feelings for him? Agree to fake date his rival, of course. Three's a crowd, four's a war. *Next Generation*
1. Chapter 1 - Hellish Mondays

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

 _"If your heart was really broken, you'd be dead. So, shut up."  
_ - **Anonymous**

* * *

 _Today is the day_.

It's the day I'll finally tell Erick Tilpin how I feel. I've remembered to put on my big girl knickers, I've chugged three cups of tea to steel myself against the nerves that are threatening to make me hurl –although, all that's actually served to do is make the butterflies beat a slightly more violent samba on my ribcage –and I've rehearsed what I'm going to say to him for the last twenty-four hours.

I'm ready.

 _I can do this._

"You just go up to him and you say the words. The good words. The coherent words." I mumble the world's least inspiring pep-talk to myself as I round the corner of the connected corridor.

I would have no idea if anyone is saying 'good morning' or about to throw eggs at me; I'm too busy keeping an eye out for Erick as I walk. I force my hands to relax out of the white-knuckle fists they've balled themselves into and to take a deep breath. "You can do this, Elle," I mutter. "Viv agreed it sounded fine. It's fine. You can–"

I stop and feel someone run into the back of me. They say something distasteful, but I don't hear what the exact words are as I'm too busy having my heart ripped out of my chest and stomped on. I'm pretty sure it's then set on fire for good measure and the ashes are scattered prettily on a vat of acid.

Somehow, despite all that torture, the damned organ is still managing to beat furiously in my chest. It's gotten far too hot and suddenly the air seems far too thin. An inconvenient lump forms in my throat. I blink, not believing what I'm seeing. _Surely, I'm dreaming?_ I actually slap my own cheek, but the image in front of me is still clear as day.

Seeing Erick and Vivienne standing in the middle of the hallway on a Monday morning is not an unexpected sight, it happens on a weekly basis. But seeing Erick with his hands on her hips, their foreheads and noses touching, and making goo-goo eyes at each other? That's something I've only ever seen in my nightmares.

And, the universe doesn't seem to think that's enough to throw at me this morning. My heart, too despondent even for theatrics, stutters to a stop when he presses a kiss to her lips. As far as kisses go, it's a simple thing; chaste and sweet and completely appropriate for the school corridor. But, I feel nausea threatening again and I take an involuntary step forward as if that's going to make any difference. I manage to drag my eyes off them for long enough to look around. No one seems at all concerned that Erick and Vivienne are kissing in the hallway.

Which only means one thing.

 _Well, no. Actually it means a multitude of things._

But first and foremost, it means that I'm the last one to find out.

It also means that the whole time I'm going over my speech to Vivienne in the last twenty-four hours –and she was telling me she thought it was great and building up my confidence and telling me I had to talk to him today –she was, what? _Already…with him?_

I feel sick and my eyes feel unusually hot and prickly.

Someone claps me on the back and I look over to see Nigel Aberdeen grinning at me. "It finally happened - Tilpin and Viv. Pretty great, huh, Elle?" he asks, clapping me on the back again, and then walks off with a huge grin.

I slowly drag my eyes back to Erick and Vivienne, only to find them looking at me like the corridor is the last place they expect to see me, like we don't meet here every morning since first year.

Concern floods Erick's deep sapphire eyes, but it's Vivienne's reaction that really hits home. The expression on her face says more to me than words ever could; the conniving bitch knows how I feel about Erick. She's known all these years how I've felt about him.

It's never been lost on us that a bloke with two female friends could cause some issues as we grew up. That's been the whole reason Vivienne and I have always been honest about Erick. We made a pact as second years that we will always tell each other if we started or stopped fancying him - or, in my case, fall totally, completely and irrevocably in love with him and won't stop even when I'm stone-cold dead.

Vivienne has crushed on Erick plenty over the years, and we've always laughed about it. Each time, I've reassured her that he isn't mine and if she really liked him, and he liked her, then I'll step back - and, I've meant it... At least, I've _wanted_ to mean it. But, Vivienne has always assured me that Erick isn't her type (particularly when her type is secretly James Potter and around dropkick - fit, yes, but arsehole extraordinaire) and that she won't get in my way.

 _Lies._

I just can't comprehend such betrayal.

I've been blindsided. I feel like I've been kicked in the gut and it hurts worse than those period cramps where it feels like a demon child is trying to rip its way out of your uterus.

I blink and realize my eyes are tearing up. _Yay._ Betrayal with a healthy sprinkling of humiliation. _As if Mondays weren't hellish already._

Erick takes a step forward as he ignores the person who calls out hello to him, but I turn and push my way through the throng of my peers. I can only hope to find somewhere quiet before my eyes decide to join in on the betrayal and embarrass me.

I round the corner and begin to search frantically for a safe place to hideout; I have no idea where to go, or what I plan to do once I get there.

Frantic, I push open a door and step inside what turns out to be a vacant classroom - _thank Merlin! -_ and quickly close the door behind me. I lean against the wooden surface, shifting my weight, and let out a quaky breath.

"Gabrielle Silk?" a bemused voice suddenly speaks, causing me to practically explode out of my own skin in shock.

I peer quickly to my left, only to drink in the sight of James Potter, Hogwarts resident playboy and celebrity. He's currently perched on one of the windowsills, his black hair tousled to messy perfection, school robes rumpled and the knot to his tie loosened, with a cigarette wedged between his pointer and middle fingers.

"Of all the girls I expected to see in here, you were _not_ on the list." He tosses the cancer maker out of the window and jumps gracefully down, with cat-like reflexes, to the stone floor. His cocky smirk turns into a frown as he slowly approaches me, his hazel eyes searching my face. "What's wrong?"

I blink and a tear actually has the audacity to run down my face. I sniff, look up at the vaulted ceiling, and try surreptitiously to wipe under my eye. "Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?"

The smirk is back. "You're certainly not the first girl brought to tears by my presence."

My tears are suddenly drying up and I'm starting to forget why they welled in the first place as I glare at him. "I imagine I'm not the first one scarred by the experience either," I reply flippantly.

He only laughs and rubs his hand along his stupidly perfect jaw. "Can't say that's been the feedback so far. But, I'll take it on board," he says with a conceding nod.

I peer around and see that we're the only ones in the classroom, thankfully. "Why are you in here, anyways?"

"Just wanted a smoke before first lesson," he states simply, shrugging his shoulders.

 _Speaking of..._

The first bell suddenly rings and I mentally curse my bad luck. I turn to leave, but James catches my arm. "What's the rush?"

"I don't want detention. Some of us don't get concessions when they're late to class."

Being the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, James Potter is given a multitude of concessions; he gets to skip a lesson to do whatever athletic people do, he can be late, miss exams, have easier assignments, be a complete shit to the professors, and they all just wish him well for the next match.

"Ouch," James retorts, chuckling, while running a hand nonchalantly through his hair. "You wound me, Elle."

"That's _Gabri_ elle, to you," I correct him snottily. "Now, kindly get your hand off me."

James chortles as he removes his hand, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

I'm unimpressed, quite frankly. "Who would have thought that I'd live to see the day that James Potter thought about someone else's feelings?"

"Does my cock count? Because, I think about his feelings _a lot_."

I glare at him, wondering where he gets the confidence to just say things like that. "You're not as charming as you _think_ you are."

"I think, _Gabrielle_ , that you'll find I am."

The second bell rings and I curse under my breath, which earns me a chuckle from James. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasure," I tell him as I go to leave.

"Let me grab my bag and I'll walk you to class."

I frown as he turns and crosses the room in a few strides, eyeing his retreating figure. "What?"

Ignoring my question, James scoops up a worn, brown satchel and throws the strap across his torso. "Ready?" he asks once he's in front of me again.

"I, erm..."

He looks at me like I concern him for a moment, but then he's back to his sarcastically casual self. "Shall we get you out of here? Or, did you want to risk being found out by a teacher? I've got pull, but I don't know if I can get us out of detention if we're caught, just the two of us in a deserted classroom."

I glare at him and nod. "You know this from experience, I'm guessing."

He casts me a wry smirk that tells me he does indeed know that from experience and pushes the door open for me to go first.

I walk out into the hallway and am annoyed to find fellow students still milling about. And, of course, they don't fail to notice me walking out of the room while James Potter holds the door open for me. Of course, he doesn't care about their stares in the slightest; he's all but oblivious of their whispering and nudging between each other as we walk down the hallway like we just had the hook-up of the century.

"We've got History of Magic now, yeah?" he inquires absently as he wanders alongside me.

"You're _actually_ coming to class today? You mean, there's no Quidditch emergency that will get you out of our quiz?"

James snorts. "Unfortunately." There's a pause. "We have a quiz?"

I cast him a sickly sweet smile. "Yes. We do."

I've never seen panic cross his face before, but I take a singular pleasure in it. By the way his eyes narrow, he can tell and that pisses him off. _I wish I could say that I care._

"So, a question. Where are you going to sit?" he asks slowly, as though it's something we discuss every day. My step falters at the sudden realization that I can _not_ , under any circumstances, sit in the vicinity of Erick and Vivienne.

"You're _not_ copying from my answers, Potter," I grit out, hurrying my feet along.

"Oi, I never said I was gonna cheat," he retorts, faking offense, easily matching his footfalls with mine. _Damn my short legs._ "But since _you_ brought it up-"

I interject, scoffing, feeling my blood begin to boil. "You're so un-bloody-believable, James Potter! First, I have to deal with seeing the love of my life _snogging_ my best friend, and _now_ I have to deal with the likes of you!"

"Whoa, whoa. Elle, wait." I fight off the urge to correct James on his usage of my nickname. He places a firm hand on my shoulder, causing me to stop in my tracks. "What are you talking about?"

A little too late do I realize what I just said, and I find myself wishing I could grab my words, stuff them back into my mouth, and swallow them. "Never mind. It's not important..."

"Judging by the sad, puppy dog look in your eyes, I'd wager that it _is_ important," James contradicted, nudging me in my side. "So, out with it. Who's the love of your life?"

I can't quite put a finger on the reason as to why I suddenly have the urge to spill my guts to James Potter, but that doesn't stop me from doing so. "Erick Tilpin. I've been in love with him since I was eleven."

James's face is incredulous, his dark brows furrowed and his mouth gaped open wide. "That tosser?!" Irritation at James's insult regarding Erick prickles just under my skin, but I bite my tongue. "Why _him_ , of all people?"

"Because he's sweet," is the first thing out of my mouth, without giving it much thought. "And smart. And sensitive. And-"

"Sounds too delicate, if you ask me," James sniggers. "Who's the snogging best friend?"

"Vivienne Bloor," I answer venomously.

"Ah," he breathes, suddenly somber, while nodding his head. "I'll tell you what. You can sit by me in class, give that git something to think about, and I won't even cheat off your quiz."

"Wow. What an enticing offer," I reply, sarcasm-heavy. "Thanks. But, no thanks."

"You gonna sit in that empty seat up front, then?" James cajoles.

I frown. "I, uh..."

And really - if I do - how obvious will it be? If I sit by Hogwarts's golden (play)boy, at least it will be _less_ obvious I'm avoiding my ( _former?_ ) best friends. Sitting next to someone is a just enough cause for not sitting next to someone else, isn't it? I mean, it _is_ James Potter, after all... But, the alternative is just so much less appealing.

James rearranges the strap on his shoulder, strolling beside me. "You've got about two meters to reconsider my offer, Elle."

"It's _Gabri_ elle, to you," I snap irately. "And I can _sit_ wherever I like." And wherever I like is preferably _not_ next to James Potter.

"True. But if I'm in on it, you can really sock it to git-face."

I glare at James on Erick's behalf, if only because I've temporarily forgotten that Erick just broke my heart.

"Fine. Thank you," I accept begrudgingly.

 _What have I got to lose at this point?_

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 **A/N** : Hello, folks! :) Hope you enjoy this first chapter of _Faking It!_ Please leave a review with your thoughts/opinions! I always enjoy hearing from you all!

Until the next chapter,  
Dev.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Killer Team

**Diclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

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 _"I don't hate you. I'm just not necessarily excited about your existence."  
_ **-Anonymous  
**

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The lesson has gone on with not a lot of people paying attention to me sitting next to James, past some staring and a little whispering.

I'm quite sure that I've felt Erick staring at me in shock a few times through the last hour, but I haven't dared to look at him. It's not even that hard not to; just the thought of now seeing the face I've dreamt about for _so long_ makes my eyes wet. Especially when I can't stop picturing him snogging Vivienne. At least, along with that thought, I've also gotten angry with myself for reacting like such a pansy, and that has helped to keep the tears at bay.

As I shift about uncomfortably, I feel a leanly muscled arm snake itself around the back of my chair. My body becomes rigid as calloused fingers tuck a stray piece of my auburn hair behind my ear. I force myself not to pull away so I don't look even more ridiculous than I already do.

"Well, that got a reaction," James whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling the side of my face.

Then, he kisses my cheek. As casual as you please!

I feel my cheeks flame and I hear him chortle lowly as he pulls away, righting himself back into his chair. I watch him as he begins to doodle precariously on the top right corner of his parchment, as though he didn't just make a _very_ public display of affection with me.

I, Gabrielle Silk, was just kissed – albeit on the cheek – by James Potter.

 _I feel like I need a shower and anti-bacterial scrub._

When the dismissal bell finally rings, I grab my belongings and sweep out of the classroom before anyone can stop me. I'm not quite sure how I can avoid Erick or Vivienne for the rest of the day in this veritable prison.

I hurry to my next lesson, heedless of whether people are or aren't staring. Knowing my luck, the whole school already knows about James's little stunt. In reality, however, it won't be until afternoon tea before _everyone_ finds out that James Potter has been seen canoodling with the likes of Gabrielle Silk. J just hope that I can avoid all three of them until…

 _Well, the end of time is preferable at this point._

* * *

I wade through the rest of the day, avoiding everyone.

I bet I look like a right bitch to my mates, but I just can't face them asking me if I'm happy for Erick and Vivienne. And, if Nigel's reaction is anything to go by, everyone would grill me with question after question; whether I saw it coming, if I've known, have I been in the middle this whole time just waiting for them to get together, did Erick ask me to tell Vivienne, has Vivienne spent sleepovers wistfully planning their wedding, have I been wondering if I should just say something already?

I know it's a shit move on my part, but I just can't face it, or them, with this feeling of betrayal weighing my heart down like it's been thrown to the fishes by a Mafioso.

So, I ignore everyone and they seem to pretty easily and quickly get the memo that I _don't_ want to talk with them. We've dealt with issues only one way in our group; we ignore them until the person with the problem gets over it, because nine times out of ten it's a mountain out a molehill – all of us have been guilty of it on numerous occasions over the years, myself included.

I went through the day watching Erick being Erick; people calling out to him in the hallways for a moment of his attention, smiling and laughing with the group as they would hang onto his every word avidly like it was law, and just generally being the cool, popular guy he is as Vivienne clung to him like she might lose him if she let go. When (read: if) Erick noticed me looking at him, he would pause and throw me a pleading look and I knew he wanted to talk. At the sight of it, I _almost_ forgot that heavy sense of betrayal. But, then Vivienne would look at me with this indecipherable look on her face and I felt it all over again, totally raw.

I manage to make it to my dormitory, it's there when my resolve melts away. I collapse on my four-poster, totally exhausted; not sure if I want to cry or not.

And that's where Perry finds me, Merlin knows how much later.

I hear his chuckle, followed by his knock on the door. "It's Monday, how bad could your day have been?" he inquires.

I mumble unintelligibly into my duvet and Perry laughs again.

"Of course. Couldn't have put it better myself."

I lift my head long enough to say, "Shut up," only to realize that breathing is actually easier without my face in the blankets. So I ungraciously roll onto my back and stare listlessly at the canopy of my bed.

There's a pause in which I can picture my brother – without even feeling the need to look at him – trying to decide if this is something he wants to involve himself in, or not.

"Is this period-related?" he asks hesitantly.

I snort humorlessly. "Unless you equate the pain in my heart to the pain of my womb trying to kill me once a month, no."

Perry enters the circular room and drops down beside me, joining me in staring at my canopy. "Okay. What's up, then?"

"And, if I said it _was_ period-related?"

He sighs fatalistically. "Then I'll lie here and listen, anyway."

"You're getting soft in your old age," I mutter, nudging him.

He huffs a laugh, nudging me back. "Yeah, because seventeen is ancient."

"You're risking your reputation here, Perry."

I feel him shrug. "I'd only do it for you, kid."

I smile then, feeling the best I have all day.

Perry is, by all accounts, a bit of a prat in his own right. But, I don't pay much attention to any of that. I don't really care how many girls the rumors have said that my brother has hooked up with, or hearts he's broken, or stupid stunts he's pulled, because when it comes down to it he's my big brother and I love him. He's all but eighteen months older than me, but we've almost always got on pretty well.

"So, come on. Tell me what's up. Did Viv go get ice cream without you?" he teases in a baby voice.

I sigh deeply. "Something like that. If 'get ice cream' is dating Erick and 'without me' is the whole school knowing before me, then yeah."

He sucks in a harsh breath, all joking aside. "Ouch. Sorry, Elle."

I try to shrug it off and feel tears welling.

"Did you, uh…?" He leaves the question hanging by a mile, but I know what he's asking; there's very little about my life that I don't tell my brother.

I shake my head, wiping my burning eyes. "No. No, I found out before I got the chance."

"So, he _doesn't_ know? You're sure?"

I gnaw my lip for a moment, considering. "I don't know. They didn't see fit to tell me they'd hooked up, and I only found out when I saw him kiss her in the hall this morning. I don't know what's going on."

"Well, it sounds like Vivienne's being a bitch and Erick's not much better," Perry says as he pulls himself upright. "If you want, we can sneak down to the kitchens for ice-cream and stuff our faces."

I shake my head again. "No, thanks. I have some homework to do, anyways."

"Must be bad if you're turning down ice cream. Let me know if you change your mind. I can only justify breaking my diet if it's for you."

"James will kill me if I made you break your diet."

Perry laughs. "Yeah, well, what Potter doesn't know won't hurt him, will it?"

I sit up and smile, and Perry grins right back at me.

We're obviously siblings; the similarities between us brands us as nothing less. We have the same auburn hair and brown eyes, not to mention the smattering of freckles on our faces. We have the same shape nose and eyes, and we even smile the same. He's inherited a bit more height than me, but I take after Aunt Georgie that way. Not that I mind all that much; being as tall as Perry would make me taller than Erick, and teenage boys seem to have an enmity with girls taller than them.

 _But, I think we've established that teenage boys are stupid._

I nod to Perry. "Okay. Maybe for dessert?"

His grin widens. "I say we also make up a nice sauce for the ice cream."

I can almost feel the sugary goodness running through my veins, and all my issues pales into an insignificance I can deal with just then. "Yes."

He rubs his hands. "Brilliant! I s'pose I best get to practice, then… If you won't give me a reason to ditch," he adds accusingly. "I'll see you for supper."

He pops back into my room, kisses my hair, and hurries out as I laugh. "Bye!"

* * *

I slept like shit and I'm willing to bet I look like shit.

Still, I walk into History of Magic on Tuesday morning with my head held high. And, if by high we here mean that I stare at my shoes as I sit in that lonely seat up the back that the other kids deem as haunted, then yeah. Head held high.

I ignore everyone again all through morning lessons.

Vivienne doesn't even bother trying to talk to me, and she does a bang up job at acting like I don't even exist. But, a few of our other friends smile at me nicely and Erick looks a little forlorn every time I accidentally catch his eye. _Not quite forlorn enough to take his hands off Vivienne's waist, though…_

I find myself in the library again at lunch. And this time I manage not to cry or feel like my heart is going to pound out my chest, so that's a plus. I just lean my head back against the wall and settle into the moment of silence…

That is then rudely interrupted by a voice I can do without.

"Well. This is incredibly sad."

I open my mouth, but close it again poste-haste and frown up at him.

"Are you actually not talking to me?" James Potter laughs, seeming totally unfazed by it.

Like a small, petulant child, I get out a scrap piece of parchment and quill from my bag. ' _I don't talk to people that snog me without my permission,'_ I scribble the words out quickly and shove the paper across the table to him. As he reads my message, his eyebrow quirks and the corner of his mouth goes with it as he tries to suppress a smile. When he looks back at me, I stick my tongue out at him and that full smile flares to life.

 _I suppose I can see why girls fall over him…_

"I think this counts, though," he states, waving the parchment in my direction. "And it was the kind of kiss I give my gran."

I frown again, if only to stop the unfathomable smile that wants to sneak in. "Still, you didn't ask."

"Then I'm sorry," James apologizes, taking me by surprise, as he situates himself in the chair across from me. "So, what brings you to the library during lunch hour?"

"Erick hasn't screwed up again, so you needn't care."

James chuckles, shaking his head. "Y'know, Elle, your little problem with Tilpin has got me thinking _…" So not good._ "If you're seen with me, I can guarantee he'll want you." He winks at me, and I can't help but frown at his obvious implication.

"Erick's a better person than you'll ever be." Unfortunately, my insult doesn't deter him.

James leans forward, his hazel eyes never once breaking contact with mine. "Maybe," he murmurs, his voice taking on a husky quality that has me squirming. "But I'll never break your heart."

My heart skips a beat at that admission.

"So, come hang out with me."

 _In what universe would I_ ever _hang out with James Potter?_

"And why, pray tell, would I do such a thing? I'm not one of your flavors of the months."

He scrubs a hand along his jaw thoughtfully. "No, you're certainly not. But, what a message it would send to that wanker…"

My frown becomes more of a scowl. "I don't need to send him a message."

Although, I won't deny that a part of me feels like it wants to say yes; I feel like spending time with James just to have the opportunity to shove it in Vivienne's stupid face. It will also go a long way to shoving the proverbial 'it' in Erick's smarmy, gorgeous face.

 _He didn't want me? Well, I don't want him either!_

"You've thought about it, though," James states, interrupting my brain tantrum.

"I have not." And I haven't, but I might now.

James grins over at me. "If I were you, I would've thought of nothing else than showing him up."

I feel my eyes narrowing as I look at him. Just _how_ does he know what I do or don't feel about Erick? If James has known that I've been in love with Erick since forever, this surely means that Erick has known, right? How could James Potter know and Erick not?

"Sounds like a normal Tuesday for you. Don't you normally think of little else than sex, Quidditch, and showing someone up?"

James nods as his eyes roves and he rearranges his bag on his shoulder. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Let me guess. If you were me, you would have hooked up with at least six people by now and shown him exactly what he's missing out on?"

James's eyes snap back to me as his smirk widens. "Something like that. But, I'd think one would be commotion enough for Gabrielle Silk."

I roll my eyes. "Well, yes. It's all relative, isn't it? You probably hook up on the daily, so you can make a statement–"

"Whereas, you're with none. So one would be plenty."

There's a note of teasing in his voice that elicits a smile out of me, but I stamp it down quickly. Although, not quick enough if the mischievous look on his face is anything to go by.

"How about you settle for hanging out with little old me?"

I shake my head. "No way. Not a snowflake's chance in hell."

"Not even to hang out with _me_?" He pouts.

I can't help the small laugh that escapes. "No, not even for you. Sorry."

He shrugs. "Alright. Different terms. How about you tutor me, then?"

I gape over at him, not sure how serious he's being. He's all James; languid and at ease. His face a perfect mask of nonchalance like nothing fazes him, and he knows he's stupidly good-looking. As I stare at him, he raises his eyebrow as though he's waiting for me to answer.

"You're actually asking for me to help you?" I ask.

He scrubs his hand over his jaw again. "Looks that way, yeah."

"Two questions."

"Shoot."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Are you failing, or something?"

He scoffs. "One of those."

I cross my arms. "Not really an answer, Potter."

"What's your second question, then?"

I sigh, figuring I'm not getting any more out of him regarding my first question. "Why me?"

"Three reasons. First, you're good at History of Magic. Second, I don't like Tilpin. Third, you can use tutoring me as an excuse to avoid the git whenever you like."

"He's _not_ a git."

"Isn't he, though?" James asks, his voice rising as he shrugs.

"No. He's–"

"Let's agree to disagree, shall we?"

We stare at each other in silence for a while, just assessing, evaluating.

Never in the six years that I've known James Potter has he been anything other than a troublemaker. I don't think I've ever spoken one-on-one as much in all those years as I have in the last two days.

I jump as the bell rings, signaling the end of the lunch hour. I get to my feet and grab my bag, very much aware of James as he rounds the table to stand next to me.

"Come on, Elle. Would it help if I said please?" he inquires, smiling at me.

"I didn't realize you knew that word existed."

He huffs a laugh. "Please, Elle. I can _really_ do with the help...? Besides, Neville's been on my case for _ages_ to find a tutor." He searches my eyes like he can find something that will make me say yes.

I think about it, momentarily ignoring the fact that James just referred to our Head of House by his first name. Bet's are that since James's marks haven't picked up since the beginning of term, the Potters have owled Professor Longbottom to drill their son to improve his grades, what with them being mates and all.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll help."

A grin pops up on his face for a brief second then he kicks his head behind him. "Come on, then. Minnie won't be pleased if we're late."

"What's this 'we' we're talking about?" I ask as he starts walking away.

He only lets go of one of my hands, so I'm forced to follow as he pulls me along behind him by my other. "A killer team."

"There is no 'we,' Potter."

"No, of course. We hate each other." His grin continues to grow as he says this, as if he knows something I don't.

"Exactly."

* * *

 **A/N** : Chapter two for ya! I'm sick in bed, unfortunately, but I got this chapter proofread quicker than I thought, so I decided to go ahead and upload! :)

Hope you all are enjoying the story so far! I find myself really enjoying writing the banter between Elle and James. I think they make quite a pair lol.

Drop a review of your thoughts/opinions! I love reading/responding to them! Also, if you have any constructive criticism, I'm all for that; I always look for ways to improve my writing.

Also, I do proofread my work, but it's still possible for me to overlook some things. Hopefully it still doesn't take away from the story!

Until the next chapter,  
-Dev.

 **P.S.** Favorite quote from the chapter? Let me know in a review, if you'd like!

 **P.P.S.** I picture Luca Hollestelle as Gabrielle, and Stefano Masciolini as her brother, Perry.


	3. Chapter 3 - Ins and Outs

**Disclaimer** : I do not own HP.

* * *

 **ban•ter**  
 _Noun_  
The playful and friendly exchange of teasing remarks.

* * *

By the time I get to Arithmancy on Wednesday morning, I forget that I'm trying to get to classes late in case James decides to sit with me. So, I'm just sitting quietly at my desk when the aforementioned boy falls into the seat next to me right still looking half-asleep.

"G'morning." He nods without looking at me, his voice thick like he's rolled out of bed not five minutes ago.

"Morning to you, too," I reply by instinct, looking him over. "Did your maid die, or something?"

James rolls his head towards me like it's an effort and I realize he has stubble on his face. "What?" he asks, obviously confused.

I indicate at him, unable to remember a time he's ever not been clean shaven. Not that I make a habit of looking at him close enough to tell, so who knows how often it actually happens.

"What's all this? Where's the with-it guy who goes running every morning before classes?"

He peers down at his disheveled appearance slowly. "This sometimes happens." He scratches the left side of his jaw with his right hand. "I _am_ human, you know."

"I wasn't aware royalty were human."

"Well, you learn something new every day." He casts me a cocky smirk that lights his eyes, telling me he knows I'm teasing him; I just haven't realized I've been teasing him. His voice is gravelly and I tell my heart to stop its sputtering.

Not that I have to tell it off for long.

Because, just then, Erick traipses in. I don't know how I know, but it makes me jump as I turn away from James and look at Erick like I have something to be guilty for. Erick and his big blue eyes glance between me and James as though he's walked in on something far more scandalous. And just the thought of that makes me blush, no doubt making me look even guiltier.

Nigel comes in behind Erick, jostling him as he guffaws about something. Knowing them, it's a continuation of a conversation they were having before classes and I suspect it has something to do with some new rumor. Erick gives Nigel what even I can tell is a half-hearted smile and response as his eyes doesn't leave my face.

I clear my throat and drop my gaze to my textbook, leaning on my right elbow and raise my hand between James and me like a shield under the presence of scratching the back of my head.

It's like I know where Erick moves and likewise I feel James shifting in his seat. Still, James's voice in my ear is a surprise.

"Ignore the git, Elle."

I look at him quickly and our noses bump, so I peer back down. "He's not-"

"Yes. He is."

I turn to stare at him and the vehement sincerity in his eyes softens, making them lose some of their glassiness.

"You sleep well as me last night?" he inquires gently.

I shift away from him, because the implication isn't wrong. It's not just the previous night; I've slept badly the last two nights, to say nothing of the hours I laid awake in nervous excitement on Sunday. My brain ran too fast but I couldn't catch anything that went through it, and my heart has wallowed in its own tears. It isn't so bad if I keep myself busy, focus on school work, talk with Perry, even James seems like a decent occasional distraction when he isn't annoying me. But, lying in bed trying to sleep isn't working for me too well.

"I could use a drink," is the closest I'll come to admitting it.

James smirks. "Little early in the day for hard liquor, isn't it? But, I'll play hooky with you, if you want." His voice is slowly losing that deep, gravelly effect that makes my heart sit up and pay more attention than it should. But, it's still deep. Deeper than it really has any business being.

I look away to hide my smile. "I _meant_ caffeine."

"Sure you did."

I shake my head and don't need to find a reason to not answer, because Professor Vector walks in and starts the lesson. I'm surprised to see that James actually seems to know what he's doing. He's the most relaxed and laid back I've ever seen him; making notes and following along with the lesson far more easily than me.

"You're good at Arithmancy?" I whisper as Professor Vector explains something from the front of the classroom - something about the magical properties of the number seven.

He slides his eyes to me. "Can I not be good at something?"

"You're good at Quidditch, I didn't expect you'd care about anything else."

"Who says I care about Arithmancy?" he asks as he flips the page in his textbook.

"What? You're actually doing what you should just because?"

James chortles. "I do what I should so I can do what I love."

I look at him carefully and realize I know what he means; he needs semi-decent marks to play Quidditch. Something about that doesn't add up to the James I know. A guy who actually tries at school so he can be your typical athlete just doesn't scream the James Potter that I've perceived from the rumors about him.

"So, you want to get a start on this History of Magic thing tomorrow?" I ask slowly.

He nods as he writes something down. "Sure. Lunch?"

"Sounds good."

"And, yeah. I'll help you out with Arithmancy."

"I didn't ask."

"You didn't have to, love."

I cover my mouth to hide my smile, nibbling on my finger nail. As my eyes slide away, they fall on Erick. I can see he's sneaking glances at me as Nigel is asking his opinion on something and I feel incredibly uncomfortable. Arithmancy is one of the two classes I have with Erick but without Vivienne. There's something more vulnerable about him when he isn't with Vivienne, like he wants to say something but doesn't know how. I can't even begin to think about what it might be, but the tension is thick between us.

Something touches my hand and I look down to see James has slipped his fingers over mine so he's holding my hand. He rubs the back of my hand twice with his thumb, then pulls away slowly and picks his quill back up. He does it all without taking his eyes off Professor Vector as she paces and waves her arm over something on the blackboard.

It's only then I realize I tense looking at Erick. And, that's only because the slightly comforting gesture from James somehow has helped me relax a little.

The bell rings for next lesson as I'm pondering the ridiculousness of that.

* * *

I'm becoming one of those loner kids, the ones who isolate themselves and slink around with their hands in their pocket trousers. But, it's honestly the most comfortable just then. I don't have to worry about people staring at me because I've suddenly stopped hanging out with Erick, Vivienne, and our other mates, or because I'm suddenly on friendly-looking speaking terms with not only James Potter, but his posse. If people are talking about me, I'm blissfully unaware.

Shame then that my eyes still work and has no problem seeing Vivienne and Erick snogging in the corridor a few meters up ahead. I stop in my tracks and I tell my clenching heart to buck the hell up. If it rants and rails much more, I'm going to start crying in the hallway and neither of us wants that. Already, I can feel the tears hot in my eyes and my lip threatens to quake. I bite it to keep it still and just decide to keep walking when Erick peers up and his eyes find mine.

I can't decipher his look. I'm feeling too much and trying to feel none of it. Is he apologetic? Is he angry with my behavior? Is he rubbing my face in it? Does he not care about me at all now that he has what he wants?

I swallow hard and take a deep breath as I take a step forward to keep walking. _I can do this._ It's all my fault anyway; I should have just told Erick how I feel ages ago. It's not his or Vivienne's fault that I can't deal.

I try to go back to being blissfully unaware...

So blissfully unaware even that someone manages to grab my arm and tug me gently towards a side corridor that leads to the lavatory. My flailing elbow clocks them and I turn to see James holding his cheek as he looks at me half in annoyance and half in humor.

"What did you expect when you ambush people?" I hiss at him, sneaking a look out into the main corridor where I can't tell if people are paying attention or not.

Erick is looking in our direction, as are a few other people. But, whether they saw James drag me into the semi-dark adjacent corridor, I can't tell.

James chuckles. "Okay, fair enough. But, you do scream cute."

"I 'scream cute?'" I ask, turning back to him. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you gave this cute little yelp-"

"Of course I did; I thought I was being kidnapped!"

"Who the hell is going to kidnap you at school?"

"Are you saying I'm not kidnappable?" I ask, feeling highly insulted in my highly emotional state.

"Of course you're, er...kidnappable." He blinks away his look of confusion and shakes his head. "That's ridiculous and _not_ what I meant."

"For what did you attempt to kidnap me exactly, Potter?"

As though he remembers something, he peers down at me and smiles softly. "Wanted to say hello."

"You wanted to..." My eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Class notwithstanding, I assumed we weren't supposed to be seen together-"

"James, is there some reason your weird obsession with me is culminating in minor kidnapping, or can I get to class?" I huff, in no mood for his...whatever he thinks this is.

"I'll walk you. It's my free."

I frown at him. "No, thanks."

James cups my face gently. My frown deepens into a scowl and he pulls his hand away very slowly and very deliberately as his eyes widen in apology. I sneak a look around and see that a couple of people walking past the opening to the corridor has probably seen, so I take a step back from him.

"Elle, are you okay?"

I peer back to James, sighing. "I'm fine. I need to get to class."

He looks like he wants to press, but he only nods. "We still on for lunch?"

"Yeah. I'll meet you then."

"Cheers." He flashes me a quick smile.

I nod and give him a once over suspiciously. I don't know what is going through his head, but I can imagine it's nothing good.

I get through a double block of Potions relatively unscathed, that is until I find myself cornered by Nigel and Emma Tolly in the library at the start of lunch.

"Elle!" Emma calls and I look around for her.

They've obviously spent their free lesson in the library and are still packing up. Emma smiles and Nigel casts me a small wave. I look around for James quickly, then give them a terse smile and realize I have little choice but to meet them in the middle of the walkway.

"Hey, you been alright?" Emma asks, looking over me like she's going to find evidence of me dying of some dilapidating disease or something on my face.

I try to give her a more sincere smile. "Yeah, fine. How about you?"

Emma nods. "Yeah, good. Where've you been lately?"

"We've missed you," Nigel adds with a bob of his head.

I peer around for James again and hope I don't look as guilty and shifty as I feel. "Uh, yeah... I've been...busy."

James sticks his head out of the stacks and gives me a humored, questioning head tilt as he leans against the shelves casually. I feel my eyes go wide in the hopes that Emma and Nigel don't notice that James is legitimately waiting for _me_ this time. So, of course, in reaction to my reaction, Emma turns around to see what I'm panicked about. James doesn't take his eyes off me and Emma turns back to me with an eye roll.

"Is he on some quest to hook up in every place in the school?" Emma asks, disgusted with James the way I'm supposed to be.

"He's probably looking for some poor nerdy virgin to deflower," Nigel says, rolling his own eyes.

"Lainey Boggs, maybe?" Emma asks.

Nigel snorts. "She could use a good deflowering, although I bet she'd just recite lines at you the whole time."

Emma laughs. _"Oh, how good thee is,"_ she teases in a high voice and I give them a small smile.

"Make a bloke lose his mojo, that would." Nigel pauses. "I'm sure Potter would be up for the challenge, though."

Emma throws him one more glare and crosses her arms. "Such a wanker."

I nod with a weak smile. "Yeah, totally."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Emma asks.

I try to come up with something convincing. "To study?"

Nigel chortles. "You don't sound sure."

 _What would Vivienne do?_ That's right, all I have to do is do what I've always done; think like Vivienne would.

My smile becomes slightly more believable. "I've got this essay due for History of Magic and it's not going well. So, you know how that is..." I peter off, hoping that it's a good enough excuse.

"Merlin, I feel you! Barely halfway through this year, but it feels like there's not enough time to get everything done!" Emma cries.

I nod again as my eyes slide to James. "Totally. Anyway, I'd best get on with it!"

"Are you coming back to sit with us when it's done?" Nigel asks and I really do believe that my mates miss me. I'm just not sure how many of the others - _*cough*_ Erick and Vivienne _*cough*_ \- are missing me, too.

I shrug. "Why wouldn't I?" I give a nervous laugh and hope that doesn't classify as lying.

Emma give me a swift hug. "Smashing. We'll see you later."

I give a weird little salute as they start walking away. "Yep, will do!"

I hurry over to James. Just as I think I've got away with it, he salutes in the direction behind me and I turn to see Emma looking back at him with a suspicious look. I roll my eyes at him.

"Great, thank you."

He shrugs as he pushes himself off the shelf. "What?"

"Because my friends need to see me with you," I mumble as I head for the wall at the end of the aisle.

"Elle, if they were your mates they'd try harder to work out what's wrong and make you feel better."

"What would _you_ know about friendship?" I ask as I fall to the floor.

"More than Tilpin, apparently." He drops down beside me, his legs outstretched, and our shoulders bump.

"Leave Erick out of this," I plead.

"Why? He's a total git."

"Don't you always think he's a git?"

"Yeah, but he's like a proper git now. You need to recruit someone else to expend all that unrequited passion on."

"What do you know about my 'unrequited passion'?" I snort as I pull my book out of my bag.

I feel his shrug. "More than-"

I brandish my textbook at him. "If you say 'the git, apparently' you'll meet my less jovial side."

"I didn't realize this _was_ your jovial side. You need to work on that." He's completely deadpan.

"Let me guess, you think I should work on that by having a random hook up?"

"What better way?"

I scow at him in disbelief. "Um, plenty."

"Name one."

"I don't have to justify myself to you, Potter."

He leans toward me. "You wouldn't believe what a bit of skin-on-skin contact will do for you, Elle," he whispers in my ear. "A soft caress. A kiss to make your mind blissfully blank. A touch to set your skin on fire."

I swallow hard, but hide it well. "Some History of Magic to help you keep your grades up."

As James chuckles, his breath tickles the crook of my neck and I firmly chastise the way my heart twirls and goose pimples flare to life across my arms.

"Whatever you say, Elle."

So, we study. And, I can't get the idea of a hook up out of my noggin.

It might not send the exact right message to Erick if I hook up with someone, but it can make him jealous. What better way to have him _finally_ notice me by having him _see_ me with someone of consequence. Although, he had the opportunity to be jealous of me with someone else last year, and it didn't work then. I suppose that might have been because my crush on Erick meant I wasn't really into the relationship. _Can I be now?_

 _Who the hell would I even hook up with?_

No one. I'm bonkers to think I can make Erick notice me by hooking up with someone else. Although...what would Vivienne do? She'd hook up with someone else.

"What happened to that other bloke?" James asks after a while, as though he can read my thoughts.

"What other bloke?" I sigh and turn the page in my textbook.

"That bloke you were dating...whenever it was."

"That's really not helping."

"I dunno. Like I keep track of who you date and when."

"You seem to remember there was a bloke." There was only one guy all year, actually.

"I notice some things."

"Obviously nothing about History of Magic. Here." I push the book at him.

"Tell me about the guy first."

I roll my eyes. "His name is Heath, and we broke up months ago."

"So, you can't date him again?"

I peer up at James and frown. "I'm going to deal with this like a _mature_ person should. I'm not going to throw myself at someone else just because Erick-"

"Broke your heart."

"Stop that now," I snap and elbow him in the side. "I'm fine."

I'm not, but James Potter doesn't need to know that. His suggestion is a tad too enticing, but I'm going to keep telling myself that I'm not going to stoop so riidicou shallow and juvenile lows to make myself feel better. I can get to a point where I support Vivienne and Erick.

Eventually.

Well, him.

Maybe.

I hope.

Merlin, I'm really not sure _how_ I feel about Vivienne at this point.

 _On a scale of Best Friends Forever to Arch Nemesis, where does 'encouraging you to declare feelings for the person they're currently dating' fall?_

"So, Heath's out-"

"Everyone's out!" I interrupt. "No one's in. Can we just stop worrying about things that aren't important and just study?"

"Your feelings _are_ important, Elle. My opinion for him aside, the git did poorly."

Because of course James Potter has a compassionate mode! What's one more topsy-turvy revelation for the week? And, James Potter in compassionate mode is _so_ not what I need...

"There are _no_ feelings. I don't have any feelings on way or another."

"Says the girl who ran into my arms Monday crying."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Were we in the same room? Because if I remember correctly-"

"Elle, you're the closest piece of action I've had in weeks. Don't take this away from me."

"And it's all about you again."

"Well, you're not really letting me make it about you. So, it's gotta be about _someone_ -"

"How is it _my_ fault you've chosen to be celibate?"

"I'm doing it for my goal average, Elle. Blue balls do _wonders_ for your focus."

"I doubt _your_ blue balls would do anything for _my_ focus..."

James huffs a laugh and I cast him a small smile, which he reciprocates.

His eyes are warm and I again wonder why in the bloody hell am I so comfortable with James Potter. He and I don't know anything about each other aside from rumors and...well, what we see on a daily basis, I guess. We've got nothing in common. We've barely spoken to each other. And yet, I'm sitting next to him like we do this all the time and exchanging un-witty banter with him.

"So, History of Magic, then..." he starts as though he's just realized the same and needs to ease whatever tension this is.

"Right," I agree and we get back to work.

* * *

 **A/N** : Hooray for longer chapters! Lol.

Also, I had so much fun writing this chapter! I love banter, and the verbal war/flirting between James and Elle is so enjoyable for me to write. :)

I just want to thank you all for the follows/favorites for this story! Means so much that you all are enjoying my story so far. But please, don't hesitate to leave a review with your thoughts/opinions!

I'll try to update within the next week, or two!

Until the next chapter,  
-Dev.

 **P.S.** Favorite quote from this chapter...? Leave a review and let me know!


	4. Chapter 4 - Potter's Proposition

_'...Transfiguration spells were cast in ancient times, as well. Circe, a witch who lived in the Greek island of Aeaea, was famous for turning lost sailors into pigs.'_

"Oi, why aren't you gone?"

I peer up from my Transfiguration essay, which I've been trying to proofread in the Gryffindor common room, to see Perry descending the circular staircase that leads to the boy's dormitories. His auburn ringlets are unruly (more so than normal) and he's still clad in a pair of pajama bottoms and an old Chudley Cannon's t-shirt.

"Because I have a double free first," I answer simply, glancing back down to my essay. "Why aren't _you_ gone?"

"Late night Quidditch practice with Potter," he responds as he yawns, plopping himself down next to me at the table. "He wants me to finetune my Wronski Feint before the next match with Slytherin - nearly lost us the last match 'cause Trista Giles out-maneuvered me."

I try not to let my body react at the mention of James.

Shocker, I fail miserably.

"Also, since we're on the topic of Potter...," Perry begins, his tone going full brother mode, as his eyes narrows. _Sod it all._ "Heard a few people talking about spotting the two of you out and about the castle the last few days."

"And...?" I snap, quirking a brow challengingly. "I'm _tutoring_ him, Perry. Is that a crime?"

"It is when people are saying you two are, well..."

I frown at him and his face falls.

"Bloody hell, Elle... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine. I mean, I feel like my hearts been shredded. But, it's fine."

Perry stands to his feet and wraps me up in his arms, causing me to feel safe and protected. "I know you liked Erick. But, this...?"

I shake my head and let him comfort me. "I think it's Vivienne more than him. I-I just got sideswiped by everything. I mean, I was going to tell him. I was _finally_ going to tell Erick, and then..."

"I know. Are you okay? Can I, uh...do anything?"

I shake my head against his t-shirt. "No. Thanks, though. I just need some time. I need to pull my head out of my arse and-"

"No, Elle," Perry says forcefully. "No. If you need to step back, then do it. That cow should have been straight with you. Instead, she was setting you up to look like a complete tool in front of Tilpin, and probably the rest of the school. She's probably been planning this for years."

I push him away. "That's not fair, Perry."

"And coaching you to finally tell Tilpin how you felt, while she was dating him was?" Perry's voice rises in anger, and I'm glad that no one else is in the common room this morning. "Look, I know you lot were close for years, but that's not the way mates behave."

"She's probably just...confused. I mean, she didn't even like him. It's probably just snuck up on her-"

"Elle, _stop_." Perry takes my shoulders and stares purposefully into my eyes. "Did you ever think that while _you_ were being honest with her, maybe she wasn't being honest with you?"

I open and close my mouth like a fish on dry land. "No... She..."

"Okay. Maybe she was. Maybe she was and it _did_ just sneak up on her. Maybe she knew all this time how you felt about him and denied her own feelings until they slapped her in the face. But maybe, Elle, _just maybe_ , that conniving cow lulled you into a false sense of security and has always wanted to take Erick from you. Huh?"

I blink. "No, Perry. Sh-She wouldn't-" I pause. "Why would she...? Erick never liked me. That was the whole problem."

"I can't tell you if he liked you, liked you, sis. But he was always closer to you than he was to her. She's always been jealous-"

"Perry, no..."

"Elle, _yes._ Vivienne's always envied the relationship you and Erick had. If he needed anything, wanted anything? You were the first person he went to because he knew you'd do it without question, without hesitation. He knew you'd drop everything for him-"

"Wait a minute. What're you saying?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. Just giving you something to think about."

"And you thought this was supposed to make my feel better?"

He gives me that annoyingly lazy smirk, like he thinks he's being all older and wiser. "I thought maybe putting things into perspective might make you feel better. Maybe losing something you never really had might not have been such a blow."

"How does that...? No. Perry. No. That _doesn't_ make me feel any better. Now I feel worse that I not only wasted my time on someone who was, apparently, never my friend, but I've given her a mountain of leverage." I hastily grab my bag and stuff my essay, quill, and ink bottle inside, not at all caring whether or not if the ink spills over and stains my belongings. "No. Poorly done, Perry. Poorly done."

He casts me an apologetic smile. "I'm just trying to help, Elle."

I scowl at him. "Yeah? Well, next time you decide to help, maybe don't."

With one last glare, I head for the portrait hole in an even worse mood than I've been all week. I love that my brother is trying to help and I know - even if I don't like what he said - that he means well. But, he has _so_ not done a very good job of it.

* * *

Saturday morning is crisp and clear as I step onto the green turf of the Quidditch pitch, bringing my jumper tighter around me to fight off the seeping chill of the wintry breeze. The wind nips at my exposed cheeks and nose, but it's not unbearable. Through squinted eyes, I can just make out James's unruly dark hair from the opposing side of the pitch, his head bent down as he looks at what appears to be a clipboard. He's wearing a pair of track pants, an old t-shirt, and trainers. I also take noitce of a stopwatch hanging by a thin yellow string around his neck.

I hesitantly begin my trek across the pitch, gnawing the inside of my lower lip nervously. The note that Albus Potter gave me earlier in the Great Hall, during breakfast, is practically burning a hole in my pocket.

 _Elle,_

 _Meet me out on the pitch after breakfast._

 _-James_

Simple enough instructions. _But why?_

When James finally looks up and spots me, that cocky smirk lights his face and he gives me a single nod in greeting. My return smile is completely unbidden and I peer back down to my shoes while I get control over it.

James jogs over to me. When I look back up at him I immediately note that it doesn't look as though he's going to stop until he hugs me, which causes me to laugh nervously and take a step back. "Oh, no. Sweaty blokes are _not_ my thing," I say as I shake my head and hold up my hands against his chest. I can see now that his black hair is drenched from perspiration, as well as his shirt.

"I'm not that bad!" James chuckles, veering his eyes into a roll. He does a far better job of holding the lines against his full-blown smile.

 _Oh, Merlin. Why am I suddenly flustered?_ "Says you," I jibe, slapping him lightly on the arm. "I could smell you from across the pitch."

James gives a dry laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. "I'll go wash off and join you in a bit, yeah?" he offers, pointing to the bleachers behind me.

I nod slowly and watch him run back in the direction he came, and it suddenly dawns on my just _how_ messed up my life has become this week. James Potter has never been on my radar. _Nor I his, I wager._

Up until this recent girl ban of his, it wasn't uncommon for James to be seen hooking up with girls in the corridors of the castle. James isn't exactly your one and done type, but he doesn't date and he certainly isn't discerning about who he spends his time with. And that's just the very thick icing on top of a multitude of other things that makes the cake that is James Potter unlikable.

James Potter is known to have no time for people he deems below him - which is anyone not in his inner sanctum (a.k.a. me) - unless he's using them for a shag. He's rude and arrogant, expecting people to do what he wants and when he wants. He's just... You know those people who walk around like God's gift and you want to smack them in the face? Well, that's James, hands down.

And I've been ruminating on this for the whole of ten minutes as I wait for James to finish up.

 _Merlin, why am I even here?_ I have absolutely no business being out here, alone, with James Potter.

Just as I get up to leave, I hear James's lazy drawl. "Going somewhere?"

"And if I am?" I all but demand, whirling around to pin a glare at him. Okay, so after remembering _why_ I dislike James, I might be a little hostile again.

"C'mon, Elle! I thought we were over this," he groans, sighing, while plopping himself down on one of the wooden benches that make up the bleachers.

"Over what?" I inquire, sitting down next to him without really knowing why.

"This tantrum, or whatever it is."

"It's not a tantrum. We hate each other; I'm just acting appropriately. Something _you_ seem to have forgotten about."

"Ah, yes; stereotyping - alive and well in teenagers all over the world," he says sarcastically.

"I'm not stereotyping. We've never been friends." _It's a fact, nothing less._ "And you hate me because Erick is my best friend."

"No. _You_ hate _me_ because Tilpin is your best friend," James corrects.

"What are you talking about?" I wonder aloud.

"Do you want to know why I don't like Tilpin?" James wonders aloud, scratching the shell of his ear, as he stares thoughtfully out across the pitch. Without waiting for a response, he continues, "It's because he's a user."

"And you're not?" I all but demand, scoffing.

"Most of the girls _I'm_ involved with know up front that I don't do commitment," James informs me curtly.

"And what about the ones who don't know?"

"Then I tell them," James states simply, shifting on the bench to a more comfortable position. "It's on them if they catch feelings."

"That's a little harsh," I say pointedly. "Some people can't help _how_ they feel."

"Touche," James concedes, nudging me. "But that doesn't mean you haven't thought about getting back at your mates for one-upping you."

"I don't-"

"I _know_ you've been thinking about it, Elle."

I open my mouth to refute it, but realize there is no point lying to him. "So what if I have? It's not illegal or immoral to have thoughts, it's just what we do with those thoughts that matters."

James nods in condescending agreement. "Is it now? Well, I put this to you. You want to make him jealous, make him see that he's picked the wrong girl; you want him to know what it feels like... Right?"

I wriggle uncomfortably. How dare this arrogant arsehole see through me so well. It's his damned fault I've been thinking it in the first place.

"You do. I can see it on your face."

"Okay!" I practically explode. "Okay. Say I do... What does it matter?" A pause, then, "Besides, who do I have to make him jealous-"

"Me." James is completely serious, all jokes aside.

I've been ready to go on more of a tirade, it would have been a thing of true beauty and poise. I've been ready to bemoan my lack of foresight in selecting a boy and his niche of friends that make me unapproachable by _my_ friends - don't give me that, cliques are cliques no matter where you grow up. But at that, my brain just stops.

"Close your mouth, Elle. A bloke could get the wrong idea."

I do indeed snap my mouth shut, but I'm pretty sure I'm still looking at him like a complete nutter. "What?"

He gives me the sort of sinful smirk you might expect to set you on fire, but it's wasted on me as I'm still getting my head around the whole 'him' idea. I mean, I appreciate the smolder somewhere very far in the recesses of my brain, but I'm not getting to it anytime soon.

"Me," James repeats. "And put it this way, you'd actually be doing _me_ a favor."

"How would _I_ be doing _you_ a favor?"

"You remember how I said I was avoidning girls?" he asks and I nod dumbly. "Well, some of them haven't gotten the message. I propose you use me to make your git-"

"Not my git," I breathe on complete autopilot.

"-jealous and I'll use you to keep the chits at bay," he continues like I haven't spoken. "A mutual understanding, as it were."

I blink. "Um, what?"

He rolls his eyes. "Bloody hell, woman! I'm suggesting we fake date. We tell people we're dating. This way, I'm not harassed by other girls and you can make Tilpin jealous."

I don't know what I hate more; that I like the idea of it or that, all joking aide, I'm actually considering saying yes. So, instead of coming up with an answer, I bring logistics into it.

"How the hell is _that_ going to work?" I ask. "Are you going to ignore all your friends, too? I cann't see your followers taking the loss of their king so well," I snort sarcastically.

The grin he gives me sends a shiver down my spine, and not in an entirely unpleasant way. He holds a hand out to me, totally unnecessarily suave. "No. I propose you join me - my mates are now your mates. So, what d'you say, Elle? Wanna be my fake girlfriend?"

He grins and a small part of me does think it to be quite charming. "Is that a yes?"

I run it over in my mind.

Can I fake date James Potter? I mean, I sort of don't hate arguing with him, so I can possibly tolerate him. I've even had this odd pull to him all week - to the extent not all of our chats have been arguing. And if anything is going to make Erick jealous, fake dating James Potter will be the _perfect_ way. I'm not talking to my friends, anyway, so what does it matter if I suddenly start to hang out with James? At least, this way, I'll have somewhere other than the library to go to for lunch.

 _But, no._ It's ridiculous. You don't just fake date someone to make someone else jealous.

"No..." I say slowly.

James's smile stays in place, but his eyes lose that humor. "Why don't you think on it? My offer isn't going anywhere."

I want to tell him I'm not going to think about it. It's just a simple 'no' from me and it will never be anything else.

But, who am I kidding?

I'm going to be thinking of very little else now.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Denial River

**Disclaimer** : I do not own HP.

* * *

 _"You know, I can't decide if I want to punch him in the face or have his babies."  
_ **-Anonymous**

* * *

"So, have you heard the news?" James whispers in a tone that makes me smile despite myself.

"No... What news?"

"James Potter and Gabrielle Silk are _dating_!" he says scandalously, complete with eyebrow waggle.

A small laugh escapes me. " _Fake_ dating," I remind him. "And I haven't even agreed to it yet."

James sidles up next to me, his hand going to my waist. "Ah, but people don't know that. And, besides, it's been a week..."

"People don't even think we're dating."

"Not yet."

"Shouldn't you be down at the pitch doing suicides right about now?"

James shrugs noncommittally. "I had better things to do this morning."

"Like what?"

His hand slides around my hip and over my arse as he gives me one of his James Potter's patented smirks. My eyebrow rises as my heart stutters.

"Like walking my favorite girl to class."

People are looking. People are looking at James Potter accompany Gabrielle Silk down the corridor with his hand planted on her arse while she - I - smile. Even as I feel a twinge of panic, I can't stop smiling as I notice the glisten of mischief in his hazel eyes.

"James, people are _staring_ ," I hiss, yet I make no move to shove his hand away.

"How did you think this would go, Elle?" he inquires, humor written all over his handsome face. "People are going to have to know - and believe - we're dating if you expect to make the git jealous."

I try very hard not to smile. "Erick isn't-"

"Yes, he is," James assures me, smirking. His eyes then flicker up ahead and, if possible, his smirk gets even wider. "Oi, git sighting!"

I look further up the hallway and see Erick coming from the opposite direction. He's smiling as he's surrounded by people who are slowly peeling away to their classrooms. I quickly shove James's hand away. Never one to be deterred, however, James places his arm around my shoulder and leans his lips to my ear.

"It's now or never, Elle," he murmurs. "But if you chicken out, he'll never notice you."

"I am _not_ chickening out."

"If you want to, it's okay. Just say the word and we're done. But...," he pauses, "...if not, then I'm going to feel obliged to give Tilpin a bloody good show."

James is giving me an out. I can walk away from this with very little repercussions. Erick hasn't seen us yet, and who cares what rumors will run around the castle after James's display of affection toward me...?

But upon seeing Vivienne magically appear at Erick's side and hanging on to his every word, my mood sours.

I've known from the get-go what I should have done. I should have bucked up and congratulated the two of them. I should have put my feelings aside and been happy for the happiness of my two best mates. That would be the decent and proper thing to do. Why, then, have I been so caught up in the feeling of betrayal? I mean, Erick doesn't know how I feel about him - Well, I _hope_ he doesn't, and that's different, but I'm sticking to that theory for now. So, he hasn't actually betrayed me.

 _Vivienne, though..._

I can't stop thinking about what Perry told me last week.

Did Vivienne only coach me the week before so I would make a nutter of myself? Was she trying to get Erick away from me all this time? I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Five years of friendship means I _should_ give her the benefit of the doubt. But, there's this little niggling feeling in the back of my head that insists there's some merit in my brother's words. Which makes my heart hurt even more.

And that makes me angrier.

I want payback.

It's immature and probably wrong of me. But, I can't bring myself to care. Besides, James's offer is looking mighty enticing...

"I'll fake date you," I blurt out.

Apparently, my heart has taken the wheel and has left my brain hogtied in the backseat while we all hurtle along at breakneck speed into increasingly dangerous territory.

"What?" James asks.

My gaze turns to him and I see him observing me with humor in his eyes.

"I'll fake date you," I repeat carefully, looking into his eyes so my meaning can't possibly be misinterpreted. "Now, get to it."

James's face breaks out into a disarmingly sincere smile. "Then let's introduce Hogwarts to James Potter's new girlfriend," he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

I sigh, but I'm resolved now. " _Fake_ girlfriend."

He looks at me in a fondly exasperated manner. "It won't work if you tell people."

I veer my eyes into a roll and he kisses my temple, then drops his nose to my ear.

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" I whisper snappishly.

He ducks his head as we walk on. "Not at all. Laying it on thick would be me crushing you against the wall of this corridor and snogging you 'til your knees go weak."

I pretend butterflies don't just explode out of my ribcage at that comment. Or, that my heart isn't excitedly chasing around them.

"Arrogant."

"But again, true."

I snort and he gives me an almost adorable squeeze as he laughs. I put my arm around his waist.

People actually stop and gawk in the hallways as James Potter and Gabrielle Silk walk past, the very definition of canoodling. There is no time to wonder if I've made the wrong choice; we're doing it now and I'm going to stick with it.

As we approach the History of Magic classroom, Erick's step falters as he _finally_ catches sight of us. James stops us casually just outside the room and caresses my face gently.

"Don't look so scared," he chuckles, then kisses my cheek. "It's all for effect, remember? Gotta get a rise out of him."

I nod as he pulls away and peers into my eyes. Those hazel eyes search my face for a moment, that mischief and humor still marking his expression. Something else crosses his face for a split second as he licks his lips, then he gives one curt nod, takes my hand, and pulls me into the room.

I just catch sight of Erick's face and it's pale. It's _really_ pale. Other than that, he looks far too shocked to know what to think.

I lower my head as I fall into the seat next to James, feeling somewhat guilty.

"What do you think he'd do if I kissed you?" James's voice is back in my ear.

"I dunno," I murmur, narrowing my eyes at him. "But you might not like _my_ reaction."

James chuckles unabashedly. "I'm quite partial to a girl who'll kiss back."

I whirl around to face him completely. "You're so certain of that, are you?"

His eyes shine and he casts me a lop-sided smile. "I see the way you look at me, love," he says quietly so no one else but me can hear.

"With exasperation and a desire to maim, you mean?" I retort just as quietly, and the other side of his mouth rises as well.

"How's denial treating you?" James quips and I'm certain people are thinking we're dating based solely on how close we are.

"Peachy," I reply without hesitation.

* * *

After a particularly gruesome lesson of Potions, James meets me outside of the classroom with an unnecessarily large smile plastered on his face.

"Why do I feel like I'm not going to like where this is going?" I wonder aloud while approaching him. I hitch the strap of my bag higher up on shoulder to a more comfortable position while simultaneously taking in his perfectly tousled hair and characteristically glinting hazel eyes.

"Come and meet my mates," James says simply.

I shake my head, feeling the color drain from my face. "Like I've already told you, I don't exactly fit in with... _your_ sort."

"That was before you were my girlfriend. Besides, people are already talking - might as well make that leap, Elle. C'mon, I'll be there to catch you." He spreads his arms out wide and I have to tell my hert that we aren't leaping into them.

 _Why does his smile have to be so adorably infectious?_

I sigh. He's right, of course. People are whispering and staring at us even now. If no one has just picked up on James dropping the 'g'

word, they will soon come to the conclusion by themselves. _May as well slam that next nail in my coffin._

"Okay, okay. Fine."

He grins widely, wraps his arm around me, and whisks me down to the Great Hall. Once inside the cavernous room, James guides me up the aisle between the Gryffidnor and Ravenclaw tables. About midway up we stop abruptly, so much so that James actually has to help me right my footing in front of a huddled group of sixth years. I recognize them all at once: Fred Weasley, Andrea Kennish, Tyrone Jordan, Maisie Yewbeam, and Zachary Davies.

Fred is the first to speak up, as he instantly notices me standing alongside his cousin; his ocher eyes flickering rapidly between us.

"Jamie, whatcha doin'?" he wonders aloud, resulting in eight pairs of eyes glancing curiously our way.

"A'right, you lot," James begins in a 'hear ye, hear ye' voice, squeezing my hand in reassurance. "So, we could only hide this for so long-"

I jerk my hand from his grasp, slapping his shoulder. "What's this 'we' you're going on about?" I all but demand incredulously.

"Okay, _okay..._ So, _I_ could only hide this for so long before I was unable to control myself," James quickly corrects himself, flinching, while rubbing soothing circles on the place I hit him. _Pansy_. "But Elle and I are dating."

All of Jame's mates just stare at us, flabbergasted. I start to feel incredibly antsy and like i need to run away and bury myself somewhere.

 _What would Vivienne do?_ I ask myself, trying not to look like I'd rather be anywhere but here. I might not be talking to her, but she certainly knows how to play to an audience.

James draws himself up – and me with him. "We're dating. She's my girlfriend; I'm her boyfriend. I get it's a little out of the blue; Elle gets it's a little out of the blue. But, you lot are going to have to suck it up and deal with it."

Maisie, a girl from Hufflepuff I know well by sight but not sure I've ever really spoke to, smiles encouragingly at me, but she's about the only one. Andrea, from Slytherin, eyes me wearily, almost as if she's trying to work out what I have that she doesn't (leverage and a lack of desire for James, for starters). And the blokes of the group seems torn between making some kind of snide remark or joke.

After what seems like an intense albeit silent showdown between James and his mates, the former takes my hand and guides me where he wants me to be. James sits down on the tabletop, his feet on the wooden bench, and draws me between his knees. He puts his arms around me and laces his fingers over my stomach in a clear message to those watching.

Ever so slowly, talk and shenanigans resume. Although, Andrea keeps throwing me dirty looks. I don't really pay attention to the talk and none of it is directed to me, anyways. Besides, I'm too busy with trying to act natural and not be stiff as wood. After all, I'm supposed to be want James's arms around me. Talk ebbs and flows for awhile, the rumble of James talking or laughing vibrating against my back almost, dare I say, pleasantly.

"You smell amazing, by the way. What is that...? Citrus?" comes the warm whisper in my ear as the conversation keeps flowing around us. And warm here doesn't just reflect the temperature of his breath on my cheek or what I feel as his nose dips to my shoulder, but also the complete sincerity of the compliment.

I may not be attracted to the lummox, but a girl is going to get goose pimples at something like that no matter _who_ delivers it.

"Does that line _ever_ work for you?" I quip, trying to act as though his remark doesn't faze me, while turning to half-face him.

His nose brushes mine and I feel far too close to those weirdly enigmatic eyes and the smile I see in them. "You'd have to tell me, love. I've never used it before."

My heart does another traitorous little skip and I hope my cheeks haven't gone fire engine red as I slide my eyes from his. "Of course you haven't," I answer skeptically, but somehow I believe him.

He chuckles lowly and bumps his nose against mine to get me to look at him again. "You'll let me know if it's working, yeah?"

I smile and shift my gaze away from him, settling myself back against him. "Sure. You can expect that with the emergency report that Hell's frozen over."

He snorts and tightens his hold on me for a second. "I look forward to it. Also, speaking of looking forward to things, we have Quidditch practice tomorrow afternoon..."

"You do. It's known to happen on a Tuesday."

"Your powers of observation astound me, Elle," James scoffs.

"My brother's the Gryffindor seeker, remember? Anyways, was there a point to your earlier statement?"

"There was," he continues, the smile still in his voice. "I thought that perhaps coming to practice would be a good _girlfriend_ thing to do."

"Do you now?"

I feel him nod. "I do."

The bell for the end of the lunch hour sounds and James lets go of me, allowing me to stand so he can follow suit. I look him over, wondering how much of his act is for show and how much is just him being the flirty bloke he is.

"So?" he wonders aloud, taking my hand gently.

I glance quickly down to our interlaced fingers, and then shift my gaze elsewhere. " _So..._ I'll think about it."

"Brilliant," he remarks, all the while our footsteps fall in sync as we join the throng of our peers heading toward the double-doors.

James's mates start heading towards their respective classes as we all empty out into the Entrance Hall, but not without bidding farewell to their leader. All the while, I spot Vivienne and Erick across the hall, hand-in-hand much like James and I now are. Erick is talking animatedly to Nigel and Asa Pike while Vivienne is laughing with Mia Tolly and Tessadora Prout.

Suddenly, I'm rethinking the wisdom of my plan as I freeze to the spot. Erick is one thing, but Vivienne is another.

"Oi, you good?"

I look up at him, hoping I don't look as panicked as I feel. He casts me a cocky smirk, but his eyes are a hell of a lot warmer than I expect them to be.

"It's all good," he assures me, as if he can read my thoughts. "You're stuck with me the rest of the day. I won't leave your side."

"If you have to pee?"

"I have a bladder of steel."

"Okay." I pause, trying to forget that piece of information. "And, if _I_ have to pee?"

He shrugs, still smirking. "Then I'll get to see how much nicer the girls' loo is after all."

* * *

 **A/N** : Just as update for you guys! :) Let me know your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6 - Keeping Up Appearances

**Disclaimer** : I do not own HP.

 **Side-note** : I updated the fifth chapter and revamped it, if you want to go five that a read before you continue with this chapter. :)

* * *

 _"You suck less than most people."_ **-Anonymous**

* * *

For a bloke who has never had a girlfriend in his life (or so James has said), he does a damned good job at acting the part.

James is almost always holding my hand or has his arm around me. He kisses my cheek, looks at me like I'm the center of his universe, and brushes my hair off my face in a manner far _too_ gentle for my liking. We've sat together in every class, have spent breakfast, lunch, and supper together, avoided my mates, and chatted most of the evenings about absolute bullocks.

On Wednesday, my free period marks our first separation at school since he made his announcement in the Great Hall to his mates. We stop outside the double-doors to the library entrance on the first floor.

James is smiling at me.

"What?" I wonder aloud.

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

"If you're going to get all clingy on me, then I _might_ have to break up with you," I warn him.

He huffs a laugh and his hazel eyes rove the corridor. "You wouldn't do that. You fancy me too much."

"Oh, do I?" I chuckle and his eyes find mine again.

He nods and kisses my forehead absently. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

I nod my head and watch after him as he casually strolls down the corridor, suddenly wishing I can grab his hand and ask him not to go. _Odd._ I shake my head tersely and enter the library, mentally berating myself for such outlandish thoughts. I _shouldn't_ want James Potter's company any longer than necessary. Just enough to keep up appearances, as it is.

I easily find a table of my liking toward the back of the library and make myself comfortable. I have a History of Magic essay due soon, so I decide to make that my first priority. I arrange my supplies meticulously around and me and am just about to go off in search of the texts I need for reference for my essay, when a voice stops me in my tracks.

"Hey, Elle. Mind if I sit with you?" I'm surprised to see Maisie Yewbeam standing on the opposing side of the table, casting me a wide smile, holding two thick tomes. Her straight, dark-brown hair is tied back into a ponytail atop her head and her expectant, hunter-green eyes are warm, open, and hold no pretenses.

"Erm, sure," I respond, gesturing to the chair across from me.

"Brill," she beams, all the while occupying the indicated chair and drops her books on the dark wooden tabletop. "So, I take it that you're coming to Hogsmeade with us on Saturday?" She inquires conversationally while beginning to scrounge around in her bag for something.

I blink. "I wasn't aware that I would be invited," I answer as two fifth years walk past us, muttering to each other.

Maisie giggles. "You and James are the talk of the school."

"What?"

"You and James. People thought it was exciting that Erick and Vivienne got together...? That's nothing compared to the talk going around about Erick's right hand girl going out with James Potter!"

I peer around the ginormous room and notice that several students nearby are indeed staring at me even more obviously than they have the past two days. "Well, I'm sure they'll get over it."

She snorts. "It's, like, the showdown of the century. Everyone's just waiting for the bust up."

"What 'bust up'?"

She looks at me like I'm an idiot, and to be fair I kinda sorta feel like one at the moment. "The one between Erick and James, of course! _Everyone's_ convinced that Erick is going to try to win you back by dueling James."

I look at her in utter disbelief. "They _what_?!"

"Miss Silk! Need I remind you of _where_ you are?" Madam Pince's anger-fueled, incredulous tone suddenly pierces my ears.

Maisie begins telling me all about her mates and what they do whilst in Hogsmeade, choosing to ignore my earlier question, and I do my best to concentrate while not focusing on the fact that, apparently, people think that Erick is going to fight James over me.

 _The thought is ridiculous._

Quite aside from the fact that Erick won't fight anyone over me, he has already had a fight with James in fourth year. Well, that was the _last_ fight he's had with James, and Erick had lost. Badly. So, I really can't see anything that's important enough for Erick to fight James over, let alone that thing being _me_.

The complete waffle in my brain is interrupted when I see Vivienne and Erick, along with a few others from our group, enter the library. I try to quell the dull pang in my chest at seeing Vivienne's dainty hand intertwined with Erick's, so I force myself to pay closer to attention to Maisie. Alas, the image of them together is seared into my retinas. They really _do_ look good together, even _I_ have to admit that.

Eventually, my gaze slowly drifts back over to the group. The five of them have crowded around one of the rectangular tables some odd meters away. Vivienne and Erick are seated cozily next to each other, the latter's arm draped casually across the back of the former's chair. Their blonde heads are inclined to each other, all the while whispering and giggling.

"Um, Elle?"

Suddenly, something within me ignites.

"Hulloooo...? Elle?" I hear a muffled voice, but it's much too far away right now for me to recognize who it belongs to.

Besides, my senses are much _too_ honed in to Erick and Vivienne's body language. It's as though I'm hyper-aware of _every_ single little detail about them - the way she leans into him just a tad when he whispers something in her ear, or the way he inclines his face toward the crook of her to kiss her delicately when she's responding to something that he has said.

I am _livid._

"Earth to Elle!"

The pathetic question enters my mind, _Why can't that be me...?_

"It's _supposed_ to be me," I find myself muttering dejectedly, my hands curling into fists so tight that my knuckles are bone-white. My heart feels heavy and I feel it sink down into my stomach.

"Huh? Elle, are you-?"

I don't even realize I'm crying until I taste my saltine tears. _Damn it!_ I hastily wipe at my eyes and I begin to throw my stuff in my bag. I _need_ to get out of here... "I-I'm really sorry, Maisie. But I have to get - I mean, I gotta go. Raincheck? We'll talk more about Hogsmeade later, yeah?"

"Oh...Erm, sure. That's fine."

I cast her an apologetic smile, feeling my heart pulse painfully in my chest when I catch her eyes glance fleetingly over to Erick and Vivienne (so she _has_ seen them) then back at me suddenly filled with pity.

"Y'know, if you ever wanna talk-"

"I can't. At least, not right now," I admit, heaving out a weary sigh. "But thanks all the same."

She suddenly beams at me. "Anything for my mate's best girl! Oi, speakin' of..."

I follow her green gaze to the double doors, and my heart practically soars at the sight of James Potter ambling in. Almost instantly, I scramble to his side. "Well, hi," he greets me bemusedly as I sidle up next to him, halting him in his tracks toward our table.

"Well, hi, yourself," I answer, feeling a lot more chipper at the sight of his comforting, lopsided smile than I really ought to be.

"Missed me, have you...?" he teases, no doubt noticing my urgency to be near him.

"Quite the opposite, actually," I grit out. "Can we _please_ just get out of here?"

"Finished with your essay already?" He wonders aloud, a hint of skepticism in his tone, as his observant eyes begin to skim the layout of the room. After a prolonged moment, he catches on, " _Ahhh..._ Seems as though we have an audience."

I can't bring myself to look at them again. It hurts too much. "James, let's just -"

"Give them a show...? Don't mind if I do."

Then, before my reeling mind can register what's happening, James Sirius Potter is snogging me.

He gives a quick tug on my arm so that we are smooshed against each other as he presses his lips against mine. The bloke has _clearly_ had more experience in the snogging department than I have. Either that or he is naturally quite skilled.

But unlike in all of the B-rated romance movies, my brain doesn't go beautifully blank as music swells. Instead, one all-consuming thought reverberates through my mind: _What the bloody hell?_

Moving my head back slightly, I open my mouth to demand some answers. Except this time I find his tongue in my mouth. Which isn't exactly an unpleasant sensation. In fact, the parts of me that are supposed to go all melty gets as soft as a chocolate bar left in a warm pocket all day. My eyes flutter close at their own accord, but I swear I see fireworks. I want to wrap my arms around him even tighter while one hand rumples the tufts of his dark-brown hair even more.

I'm about to do it...until I hear the cheering.

"Oi, look it - Elle and Potter!

"That's right, Potter! Snog her!"

"Bloody hell, Potter!"

"Find a broom cupboard, you two!"

And finally a scandalized voice I do recognize: _"Elle?"_

Hearing Perry's evident disbelief is the fastest way to cool me down. But separating from James to discover that we were being closely watched by over a _dozen_ people, including Erick, Vivienne, _and_ Perry...that has me feeling downright chilly.

Part of this is my fault, I know that. I should have asked James about the limit to our public displays of affection, instead of just assuming it would only be minor things, like hand-holding, cuddling, and a few pecks on the cheek. I should have forced myself to ask all of the awkward questions.

"I-I have to go," I quickly mutter, sidestepping James and trying to breeze past him. _I can't stay here. I need to get away..._ Only, he doesn't let me.

"Wait, wait... You okay, Elle?"

I can't meet his eyes. "James, _please_... We'll talk later, okay?"

I think he hears the desperation in my voice. "Yeah, okay. Later, then."

And I'm out the door without any hold-ups.

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

 **A/N** : Hello, everyone!

I wanted to get this update out there as it's been _way_ too long since I last posted something. :) I'm so, _so_ sorry for the wait! Such a HUGE thank you to those who have reviewed! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story so far - truly, it means the world to me.

Also, I'm sorry this chapter was so short. Never fear, however! I'm currently working on the next chapter and intend to make it longer.

I hope to hear from you all! Can't wait to see what you think.

Until the next chapter,  
-Dev.


	7. Chapter 7 - Lines Crossed

**Disclaimer** : I don't own HP.

* * *

 _"Fake people don't surprise me anymore, loyal people do."_ **-Anonymous**

* * *

"So..."

" _So...?_ "

I shoot Perry an irritated look, eyes narrowing pointedly. The two of us are huddled up on his four-poster like the sappy siblings we are, sharing both my worn-out Snoopy blanket and the tub of Half-Baked I stole from the kitchens earlier today. Perry's dorm-mates have yet to return from supper in the Great Hall, so he and I have the huge circular room to ourselves for the time being.

Too bad for me that he's being persistent.

"Gabrielle."

"I know, I know, I just…" I trail off, absently twirling the spoon in my hand. "We talk about everything, right? I mean, no matter _what_ the problem is, I can come to you about it...?"

"Of _course_ you can, Elle. And if this is about what happened in the library yesterday, I-"

"You ever do something really stupid?" I blurt out, cutting Perry off.

"Yes," he answers simply. "That's my job as the big brother. I do the stupid shit so _you_ don't. Why? What did you do?"

I frown at his accusatory tone. "Well, I didn't kill anyone, for what it's worth."

"Why does it sound like that's the preferable option in this scenario?"

A very heavy sigh escapes my lips, collapsing my lungs within my chest, making me feel small and insignificant. "Well, funny story... James and I got to talking-"

"I _knew_ it," Perry muttered under his breath.

I shot him a glare, all the while continuing, "-and we decided it would be a good idea to...to..."

"To what, Elle?" Perry asks quickly.

"Okay - please don't hate me. But we decided it would be a good idea if we," I pause, "fake dated." I finish really quickly as though he might not hear me, but it _totally_ counts as me telling him.

"Fate dating?" Perry asks in that slow tone that I know means he's trying to work out what to actually say.

I close my eyes, as though that's going to give me the confidence to tell him the whole story. It comes out like complete word vomit. "Yeah. So, apparently, he wanted off the menu for awhile, but the girls didn't seem to get the memo. Then, he puts the idea in my head that hooking up with someone else would make Erick jealous. So, I start to think about that - Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, more like. But I figure I'm too mature for stupid games. So, I initially say no when he says we can solve each other's problems. But, then Viv got under my skin, I found out James _isn't_ such a prat, and then I say yes. And we've been hanging out, and he's a laugh, and..."

 _"And?"_

"And nothing," I respond, shrugging. "That's it."

"So, all that time 'tutoring'...," he sighs, combing his fingers through his auburn curls in a frustrated manner. "Merlin. I wish I hadn't expected this..."

"Expected it?"

Perry scoffs indignantly. "Yeah. You're not exactly subtle, Elle. I was just seriously hoping I was wrong and you weren't lying to me about it."

That hits home and my heart crumples at the thought that I've disappointed him. "I'm sorry, Perry."

He waves off my apology and I know that means he forgives me, even if he thinks I've been a complete idiot. "Just...promise me this will be over soon. Because seeing you with King Douche is more than I can handle." I know that Perry isn't pleased - he knows James well enough from years at school and Quidditch to know his reputation well - but I also know he wants me to be happy. "And please promise that you won't snog in front of me, either. Because that shit is-"

"Done!" I interject, feeling my face become warm at the thought of James Potter's lips on mine. _Not_ exactly something one wants to talk with one's brother about.

Perry shakes his head. "I'm going to need to think about this, Elle. I just...I don't know _what_ to bloody think about this." After a pause, he quickly glances at his alarm clock on his bedside table. "Look, why don't you come to practice with me, yeah? Let me see you two together and I'll let you know."

"Let me know what?"

"If I approve of this whole fake dating rouse you lot have concocted."

I sigh. "Is that really necessary?"

Perry casts me a pointed look. "It is if you want to keep this facade up so you can land Tilpin."

My brother isn't giving me much of an option here, it seems. "When are you leaving?"

"Five minutes ago, preferably."

Perry hurriedly gathers the pieces of his practice kit, which is located in different places in the room, and then I follow him down to the pitch afterwards. I'm torn trying to work out if I should give James a head's up that he is supposed to act couple-y with me, but also worrying about repercussions from my big brother. I can think of very few ways of telling James anything that would not make him either back off or overdo it.

In the end, I decide not to tell James anything.

Upon arriving at the pitch, my eyes immediately begin scanning for him.

"I'm going to get changed. If your _boyfriend_ is in there, I'll send him out," Perry remarks dryly.

"Right. Sure." I nod and wander over to the bleachers.

I climb up a couple of rows and plop myself down, blowing on my hands to keep them warm. The overcast sky doesn't allow a lot for lighting this evening, but the Gryffindor team will have to make do.

"Hey, Elle!" I hear James's voice after a while.

I stand up and look towards him, smiling. His inky hair billows as he jogs towards me, his green eyes glinting characteristically, and the crimson robes of his practice kit dances around his feet. "Um, h-hey," I greet, licking my chapped lips.

"I didn't know you'd be coming."

"Neither did I."

He smiles and holds his arms out. I rest my hands on his shoulders and let him bunny hop me off the bleachers. I don't take my hands from his shoulders and he peers down at me in half humor and half suspicion.

"If your brother murders me, it's not my fault," he murmurs, leaning toward me.

I grin. "Understood."

When I still don't let go of him, he frowns. "Listen, Elle, about what happened yesterday-"

"Yeah, what _was_ that?" I ask slowly.

His frown deepens, but offers no response.

"James... Why _did_ you kiss me? Fake dating, remember?"

He bites his lip, like whatever debate is going on in his head is seriously wigging him out. He runs a hand over his chin and leans his head back, breathing out loud. Suddenly, the fact that we kissed is irrelevant. At this moment, I'm more concerned with the fact that there is a possibility that he _didn't_ like kissing me.

Because, of course it makes sense that I _wanted_ James to like kissing me.

"Fake dating, yes. Believably fake dating...?"

"James, where is this going?"

"Look, I have a reputation-"

I suddenly shove myself away from him, disgusted at the insinuation in his tone. "I am _not_ sleeping with you!" I hiss.

"I'm...," he huffs out a breath. "We're not going there right now, Elle."

"Or ever!"

"Not what I meant. Look, no one in Hogwarts is going to believe we're dating - _regardless_ of what we say - if we never kiss or they don't see _some_ kind of physical attraction going on. As much as I like you, that's just not me, Elle." He shrugs, like he feels he should apologize, but he isn't really sorry.

My heart skitters and my brain glosses over the fact that he just said he likes me. "If this is some weak-arse attempt to hook up with me..."

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that I don't want to, okay? You're just..." He trails off for a moment and waves a hand at me.

"I'm just what?" I ask, suddenly panicked.

"I mean, I'd sort of noticed. But, I'd never _really_ noticed, y'know?"

"Noticed what, James?" Seriously, I have to know what the bloody hell is wrong with me.

"That you're... That you're gorgeous, Elle."

Now, it's my turn to frown. "I'm not gorgeous." I'm not, it's just a fact. I don't think I'm hideous or anything, but I know I'm not gorgeous, either.

He turns his gaze back to me sharply. "What?"

I peer down at myself, like I can actually see all of me. "I'm not gorgeous, James. I'm okay with that. I mean, I'd hate to be Vivienne and have blokes all over me all the time. One or two might be nice, but the constant flirting and -"

"That rank bitch has nothing on you, Elle."

"That's my - _was_ my best mate you're talking about there," I warn him, my eyes narrowing. Despite being at odds with Vivienne currently, a flare of loyalty still burns deeply for her.

He shrugs and ignores that fact. "That's not to say I'd never thought about you like that. But, that was before -"

"I'm _still_ not hooking up with you."

He shrugs again, almost like he's giving up the fight. "Fine. But if people start questioning our relationship, it won't be my fault."

I laugh. "If you want to kiss me, you can just admit it. But trying to make something out of it..." I shake my head. "I would have thought resorting to tricks is beneath you."

"Firstly," he starts, "it's not tricks. I'm serious. People are going to get suspicious if they can't _see_ the attraction-"

"Because if someone can't _see_ something then it must be fake," I grumble sarcastically under my breath.

"And, secondly," he steps toward me, closing the distance between us once more, "of course I bloody want to kiss you."

Then James Potter is cupping my face with both hands and gives me the kind of kiss that is supposed to knock your socks off. _Except, I'm wearing stockings..._ Still, I feel my body betraying me as I effortlessly lean into him, my arms finding their way around his neck as his goes around my back and pulls me closer still.

Little shivers of pleasure and panic shoot through me as he deepens the kiss, parting my lips. I stop thinking. My fingers slide into his hair; it's soft, silky. Nothing else about James feels this way. I spark alive, my heart swells to the point of near bursting. The rush of sensations crawling across my body is maddening.

Scary.

Thrilling.

And I never want it to stop.

After... Merlin, I don't even know how long, James finally pulls away from me, almost reluctantly, and stares down at me like he's never seen me before.

"Pun intended, but _fuck me_ , Elle. Nice girls don't kiss like that," he mumbled, leaning his forehead against mine. His warm breath fans across my face and I feel the hairs on my arms stand on-end.

"Cliche much?" I chuckle.

He smirks. "Cliches are cliches because they're cliched," he states philosophically, shrugging.

"How many _nice_ girls have you kissed, anyway?"

He huffs a breathless laugh. "Fair point."

We just stare at each other for a lingering moment, until I forcibly remind myself that I _don't_ like this guy. I clear my throat, give him my best intimidating awkward smile, and take a step back as I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

 _Thank Merlin no one else is out on the pitch yet._

"Well... That was...uh, that was certainly a kiss." I nod in agreement with myself.

"Yeah, it was."

"So, I guess we know what to expect now if we need to kiss in front of anyone."

"I guess so."

"But, you know, only as necessary." _Or all the damned time!_ an annoying voice in my head pipes in.

"Of course. Just enough to make people think we're dating."

"Yeah. But, I mean, d'you think we'll be able to sell the attraction thing?"

James chortles. "Yeah, love, we're not going to have _any_ trouble in that department."

"Good, okay. So, that's good, then."

 _Merlin, what is wrong with me?_ All I can think about is snogging him again. My skin tingles just thinking about it and I have to stop myself from taking another step toward him. This is ridiculous. I do _not_ like him. I do _not_ want him.

Fake dating James Potter is just a convenience.

"Everything alright, Elle?"

"O-Of course! W-Why wouldn't it be?" I trip over my words, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "Erm, shouldn't you be heading down to the pitch? Or, is there something else you wanted?"

"Well, you already said you weren't sleeping with me..."

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

"You said that about my charm, too, and look where that got you," he quips, winking.

I point a finger at him. "Snogging you for the sake of a charade does _not_ mean I find you remotely charming, James Potter."

He grins widely, his dark brows wiggling. "Looks as though I'll have to make you realize you already think I'm charming."

"Get in my brother's good graces and _then_ I'll consider where I stand on the charm factor," I say breathlessly, and it's all the admission he's going to get.

* * *

I've never liked rain. It symbolizes depression and, for someone whose disposition is usually sunny - _most_ of the time, mind you - it's something I simply do not believe in. Rain is always cold and soaks you through every time, no matter _how_ many coats you wear.

I scoff. How typical it is, then, that I live in England, where skies constantly cries its eyes out.

With dull eyes I stare out at the Hogwarts courtyard, watching the rain pour down. It soaks the cobblestones on the ground, filling up several small puddles with murky water. The occasional plant and bush sags under the weight of the water and I see the birds perched in the trees, huddling together and fighting for the protection from the rain under the leaves.

I'm sitting in the archway of one of the open windows, leaning my head against the cool stone with an expressionless face. I rest my feet, tucked into my old navy converse, against the other side of the arch. I have no idea how long I've been sitting here, probably all afternoon.

This dreary weather only causes my mood to sour further.

A group of chattering third years break my thought process, and I peer up in enough time to see them scurrying across the courtyard, desperately trying to avoid getting wet.

I watch their laughing faces as they scramble up the steps towards the Entrance Hall. Even from afar I can hear their jabbering of the topic of the week: James Potter and Gabrielle Silk. However, their excited talking fades away as they disappear and the only thing heard again is the heavy fall of rain.

I swing my legs over the windowsill and turn my back towards the blurred view. I burrow my head in my hands, heaving a tremendous sigh.

It's then that I hear the footsteps. Someone is walking down my corridor of solitude. _Please, just ignore me,_ I will to the unidentified presence. But, of course, no such luck. The footsteps cease just beside me and suddenly the person hoists themselves up and is sitting beside me in the archway. I know who it is without hearing a voice; I recognize his nice scent.

"What do _you_ want?" I ask miserably.

"Don't say anything," Erick replies in a surprisingly soft voice, "just listen."

I do so, without even lifting my head.

Erick draws in a breath. "You're one of my best mates, Elle. We've always got on pretty well - at least, I like to think so. Since we first met on the platform during our first year, we've always been there for each other."

 _Oh, I remember all too well..._

* * *

 _Penryn, my small brown owl, whose feathers are slightly tousled, old as she is, chirps in clear alarm at the scene before us. Hundreds of students, all in different shapes and ages are hurrying past me, nearly knocking me over since I'm significantly smaller than them. But then, of course, people don't pay much attention to first years in general._

 _"Don't worry, Pen, this is gonna be just fine…" I try to soothe her, though I fail as I swallow nervously. "…I think," I add._

 _My parents, of course, were not been able to follow me to the train, as they have to work. Again. And Perry took off moments earlier, stranding me on the platform, just so he could be with his mates._ Thanks for that, big brother.

 _I'm brutally forced back to reality as some really tall girl shoves past me, and I trip backwards over my trunk, falling flat on my back in a rather uncomfortable position. My jacket and hair fall straight over my face, making me momentarily blind._

 _A bark of laughter from nearby however tells me my little tumble hasn't gone unnoticed. Angered, I struggle to disentangle myself from myself._

 _"You think that's funny?" I snap in a muffled voice as I whip my jacket from my face._

 _"Yeah, I do," a boy's voice replies and I turn slightly pink, but he can't see it thanks to my hair still covering my face. How typical me to fall in front of a boy._

 _"Well, you have three seconds to either apologize or get creamed," I demand, finally managing to whip the hair out of my face, and I find myself staring upon a pair of black sneakers, attached to a pair of jean-clad, lanky legs._

 _I let my eyes travel up until I set eyes upon his face, and his big hazel eyes, seeming innocent, but I immediately locate the mischievous glint in them. There's a smirk on his face, which I decide the moment I see it that I hate it. His jet-black hair is short, save for in the back, where it's tickling the collar of his jacket._

 _"It's been more than three seconds," he jibes, snickering._

 _"And yet you're still here," I observe, still laying on my back. I'm really eager to get to my feet, in case there's another…er, accident._

 _"You noticed," he smiles, and I sigh exasperatedly. Stupid boy. If this is what the rest of the students of Hogwarts will be like, then I'm in for it._

 _"What's your name?" he suddenly asks, and I groan. Why can't he just go away?_

 _"Gabrielle," I reply._

 _"…Gabrielle," he murmurs thoughtfully. Then a smug look crosses his face. "Can I call you Belle?"_

 _"No, you cannot," I snap, trying to ignore the boy and scramble to my feet, brushing the dirt off my jeans._

 _"Oi," he suddenly says, catching my reluctant attention._

 _"What?" I snap._

 _"Is this your owl?" he asks lightly as Penryn, inside her cage, is lying at his feet._

 _She is utterly worked up by the whole situation, hooting like mad and trying to fly around in the cage. If she could be free now there's no catching her until she's calmed down. She might be old, but she is still one crazy owl._

 _"…yes," I respond tentatively, not sure what he's getting at._

 _But I realize what, filled with horror, as he places his foot on her cage and gently pushes the hinge that fastens the opening to the cage. My eyes drift from the cage to his face, the smug smirk on his lips, as well as the mischievous sparkle in his eyes._

 _"You wouldn't dare," I breathe, but his eyes practically scream, "Oh, wouldn't I?"_

 _Then he pushes his foot and the hinge lifts off. Penryn wastes no time and takes off like a projectile from the cage and flies off over the heads of all the rushed students. You know, for being as old as she is, she's still one fast bugger. There's no catching her now, and boy does this bloke know it._

 _"You are so dead," I spit, but he just casts that damn smirk in return._

 _I want to kill him, I really do, but I need to catch Penryn before she causes some real trouble. With one final death glare at the laughing boy, I take off after my owl, shouting her name like mad._

 _"Penryn! Penryn! Come back here, you ruddy owl!"_

 _Of course, this earns me quite a few glances from passersby. I have no time to dwell on it for long, however, as I busy myself trying to navigate through throngs of people on the platform, adults and children alike, and keep a steady eye on Penryn as she soars overhead._

 _"Oi, watch it!"_

 _"Ouch! Mummy, that girl stepped on my foot!"_

 _"Why, you little beast!"_

 _"...Such a pretty girl. Where's your owner, huh?"_

 _That last voice rings out above the others and I stop in my tracks, shifting my gaze toward my left. There, amongst people rushing about, is a boy with shaggy, dirty blonde hair, standing next to a brown trunk. And perched on his outstretched hand is Penryn, resting quaintly, as the boy strokes her chest comfortingly._

 _"Oh, Penryn!" I gasp, relief flooding through me as I hurtle myself over to them. Perry would've clobbered me if I lost her, as he was the one who passed her on to me to care for this last summer._

 _The boy's blue eyes take in the sight of my frazzled appearance as I approach, but he smiles warmly at me nonetheless. "Oh, hello! Would this happen to be your owl? Penryn, you said?"_

 _"Oh, erm... Yes. She got away from me after this nasty boy released her from her cage," I explain, trying to keep my blood from boiling over at the mere mention of him._

 _"Well, she's found her way back to you," the boy says, smiling, while handing Penryn over. "I'm Erick, by the way. Erick Tilpin. What's yours?"_

 _"Gabrielle Silk," I answer, all the while stroking Penryn's chest in order to comfort her. "But you can call me Elle."_

 _"Well, Elle, I was just about to board the train and grab a cabin before they're all gone. Care to join me?"_

 _Would I ever! I've been worried that I would have to spend the train ride to Hogwarts all on my own. Maybe something good has come from that green-eyed boy's presence on the platform, after all._

* * *

My mood darkens, if possible, at the mere memory of that fateful day on the platform.

"What's the point of all this, Erick?" I demand, flinching at the bite in my voice.

He shrugs a little, all the while loosening the knot of his blue-and-silver striped tie. Erick is, unlike me, still garbed in his school uniform - even in my current state of depression I notice how nicely he's filling out the bone-white shirt - though he has ditched the black pullover.

His eyes are fastened on the stone wall ahead of us as he falls silent for a short moment. Then he turns his gaze to me, a serious glint shining in his eyes. "I miss us, Elle. I miss _you_ ," he states, causing my heart to flutter painfully inside my chest, "my best mate."

Despite the sudden look of sadness coming across his face, he looks as handsome as ever. His short, yet unruly hair, falls charmingly over his forehead, under which his eyes are now staring expectantly at me. I can't discern what he's thinking, but his sharp features are relaxed in a sort of smile.

"I'm sorry," I suddenly say.

"For what?"

"For..." _Not being a supportive best mate ._ "...avoiding you these last few days. I hadn't planned on it, y'know"

"Yeah, I figured," he chuckles, scratching the nape of his neck in an awkward fashion. "Would Vivienne have anything to do with your absence, lately?"

We sit in seriously sizzling awkwardness for too many stressful heartbeats.

"Elle, look, about Viv and I-"

"Why couldn't you two just _tell_ me?" The words are out of my mouth before I can think and I immediately wish I can grab them, stuff them back in, and swallow them. Erick's expression goes through three different emotions in quick succession: first is surprise, the second is one that I cannot recognize, and the third resembles resolve.

I flush at my own audacity.

"Vivienne said...," he pauses and my heart drops to the floor, expecting the worst. "Viv said that we'd tell you together. Elle, that day in the corridor - you _weren't_ supposed to find out like that. Viv said we should act natural until we had a chance to tell you together. She said-"

"'Vivienne said'? Since when don't you think for yourself?" I demand, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

This _isn't_ the Erick Tilpin I know. This isn't the guy who blazes the trail, who makes the rules and the decisions. This isn't the guy who walks around with the confidence to rival James Potter's and has a smile for everyone.

He shrugs. "Since I trusted her to know how you'd react."

I blink. "Why? Why would she possibly have known better than you?"

Erick casts me a weird grimace-frown and averted his gaze. "We'd, uh, talked about it...a lot. She said you'd be..."

His nose wrinkles like he isn't sure if he should keep talking. What in Merlin's name have they talked about?

 _He knows._ He _has_ to know. Vivienne's told him. _He's known this whole time?_ And he's never once ever done or has said anything about it. Merlin, that's worse than him just never seeing me.

"Viv thought you'd need some time with everything. I just...I didn't expect it would send you into the arms of James Potter."

I swallow, my throat as dry as the Sahara. The least I can do here is try to save face; keep up appearances, that is. Maybe if I focus on that, I can ignore the panic trying to grip me that tells me Erick has known all this time.

"We were together before that," I say, but my voice sounds choked.

Erick sounds. "Before that?"

I nod. "About a week before." _When are we supposed to have got together?_ I don't think we've covered this. I'm going to have to ask James for a day or a date - something more substantial than round-about numbers.

"You were already dating Potter?"

I nod. "He's...not like we thought he was."

Erick casts me a superior snide look. "And you were stupid enough to fall for it?"

I bristle. "There isn't any stupidity involved. Thanks for the that great vote of confidence. I thought you were supposed to be my best mate?"

"And _I_ thought you were mine. But, my best mate wouldn't fuck my rival."

My throat hitches. "No one's _fucked_ anyone, Erick," I grit out and watch the surprise on his face. "Not that it's any of _your_ business if we have."

Erick swallows and I see him looking for bullshit. Other than Perry, Erick has always been the only person I've thought that can read my like a book, especially if I try lying to him. Which has made the fact that he's never noticed I liked him - when even apparently James has - all that much more of an oddity to me.

"I was going to deny my feelings for you, Erick Tilpin. But, I didn't feel quite so bad about it after I realized you _lied_ to me."

" _I_ lied to you? At least I dated within the group. What _I_ did was acceptable - _you're_ the one who crossed the social lines and broke _everything_!" Talk about breaking; his voice breaks on the last word.

I blink. "'Broke everything'?" I scoff. "I would have gotten over my moment of crazy, but you're the one who just sat idly by while our friendship went to hell!"

"And here I was thinking that you might have _liked_ Potter," Erick sneers.

I give up looking for any sign my best mate is still in there.

It seems like no matter what Erick's intention has been in coming to talk to me, there is no resolving this. Any idea of finding my way back to Erick one day, in any capacity, is slipping further and further out of reach. Which makes me feel less bad for what I say to him next.

"I do. But, I would have had less incentive to hang around a bunch of people who hate me if _you_ had been a better mate!"

"A better mate, eh? That's bloody rich. You know I hate him, Elle. You know I've hated him since I met him."

"Yeah, and _why_ is that, Erick?"

"You _know_ why!"

"I don't think _anyone_ does!" I snap because it's the truth; it seems no one can remember a reason why James and Erick hate each other beyond it being a fact.

"Because he's a smarmy wanker. He expects everyone to bow to him, his money, and his smile. So, he's Harry Potter's son and a decent Quidditch player? Whatever. He's always been rude, arrogant, and a total wanker. But what did my feelings matter? You had to have what _you_ wanted. You _always_ have to have what you want."

Oh, that is _so far_ from what I want. And, quite honestly, I can't recall the last time we've done anything I want over what Erick wants.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. If you and Vivienne talk so much, you would know it's not true. What happened to the guy the school worshiped, huh? Where's the Erick I know?"

"Maybe you never knew me."

I scoff. "Yeah, because you knew the real Elle." It just comes out. But as soon as it does, I wonder how true it is. I wonder if, maybe, Erick and I have never really known each other after all.

"I'm the only one who does know you. D'you think that wanker _knows_ you? There's only one part he cares to know, and shame on you for giving it to him, Elle."

 _Does he actually still believe I've slept with James?_

I blink hard, hoping the tears aren't going to fall. "Y'know what, Erick? I hope you and Vivienne are happy together. I can see I chose the right guy for me in the end."

The tears are only going to be held back for a little longer and my brain is currently the only one trying to keep those floodgates closed; my heart has pulled out a row boat to ride out the inevitable storm in the most dramatic way possible.

"I-I've gotta go," I murmur, climbing down from my place in the archway. "Goodbye, Erick."

"Elle, wait-"

But I'm running away, not giving him a chance to continue.

The way back to Erick is getting more difficult for me to see, now.

* * *

A/N: A fairly quick update for you all, right? :)

Hope this chapter finds everyone well! 3 I have to say that this chapter did not go as planned, but I am happy with the end result nonetheless. We got to some interaction between Elle and Perry, Elle and James, _and_ Elle and Erick ( _finally_ )!

Thanks so much to those who have viewed! I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one!

I hope to update within the next 2-3 weeks!

Until the next chapter,  
Dev.

P.S. Any thoughts on how Elle and Erick first met? And what about the green-eyed boy from the flashback, too? Hmm... ;)


	8. Chapter 8 - Off Script

**Disclaimer** : I do not own HP.

* * *

 _"Just wing it. Life, eyeliner, everything."  
-_ **Anonymous**

* * *

"Hot or cold?"

"Hot. I _hate_ being cold. You know that about me." Just the thought makes me shiver even though it's toasty inside the castle, which is probably what prompts Perry's question.

We're currently walking down the seventh floor corridor, heading toward the entrance to the Gryffindor common room - after having a hearty serving of strawberry shortcakes for breakfast down in the great hall - on this lovely Saturday morning.

He nods his head. "I do know that, but I mean, would you rather die from freezing to death or overheating?"

"Morbid." I purse my lips. "But you're right, that's a different question. I've heard that dying from being cold is blissful."

"Who'd you hear that from? Are any of the ghosts talking about how they've died to you?"

"Yes. Every day. Speaking of, would you rather be cursed with seeing haunted spirits or zombies?"

"Cursed? _Cursed_?" He grips one of my shoulders and shakes it. " _Neither_ of those is a curse in my opinion, little sister. Totally brilliant. I'll take them both."

"That's not how the rules work, Perry. You can only pick one."

" _Hmm_... Better pick ghosts, then. Hopefully they can tell me about my future."

"Ghosts don't know the future," I point out, noticing that we're nearing the portrait of the Fat Lady now.

"Says who?"

"Says everybody! If anything, ghosts know the past."

"Well, yours may not, Elle, but _my_ ghosts are future-telling ghosts. It will be brilliant."

I veer my eyes into a roll as we simultaneously stop in front of the painting of the rotund woman. "Password?" she drawls out. Thankfully she isn't keen on trying to get us to stay and listen to one of her many horrendous musical numbers. She has an awful bad habit of not making the most of her day and visiting the other portraits to take up most of her time. Rather, she spends her time with assaulting's students' ears with something she calls "singing."

"Fizzing Whizbees!"Perry exclaims enthusiastically.

I snort at his ridiculous display. "Do you _always_ have to act like that when you give the password?"

Perry shrugs noncommittally. "More or less. It's the best part!"

The portrait swings open, only to reveal the boyish handsome faces of James Potter and Fred Weasley exiting the circular whole in the wall.

"'Mornin' Silks," Fred greets cheerily, saluting the two of us, as he straightens to his full height.

"Fred, Cap'n," Perry acknowledges the two, though the latter receives a bit of a snub from my brother. He's still not very approving of the whole 'fake dating' thing we have going on right now. _He'll come around...hopefully._

"Perry," James regards my brother cordially enough, then his hazel eyes turn to me. A wicked smirk on his face tells me that he has nothing pure on his mind. "Elle."

Mind you, after kissing me properly, my opinion is that the gutter looks like a mighty fine place to have a stroll for a while; none of this high road business for me. Apparently, I'm all for the low road.

"James, Fred," I murmur, trying to keep my cheeks from flaming.

The four of us share awkward glances before Fred speaks up first, "Well, now that we're all rightly acquainted - Perry, why don't we head back into the common room for a little _tête-à-tête_ about your Plumpton Pass."

 _Bless you, Fred Weasley._

"Erm, sure," Perry agrees, albeit reluctantly, while his eyes flicker between James and me. "Elle, I'll see you in there in a bit." I notice that it isn't a question, rather an expectation.

"Yeah, of course."

Once Fred and Perry climb through the whole, and the Fat Lady's portrait is securely covering it, James is quick to drag me down the corridor and around the corner. He presses me up against the cool stone wall, then takes my face in his hands. I peer up, only to see his eyes lit up.

"If I kiss you, does that count as necessary or unnecessary?" he asks and my heart flutters a little excited flamenco.

"Good morning to you, too," I answer, trying not to smile at him.

"Good morning." He gives me one of the most sincerest grins I've ever seen. "I mean, I just wondered if keeping up appearances now was a good idea, or...?"

My smile breaks through unbidden. "We need to get back to the common room."

"Maybe a kiss from my girlfriend will give me the motivation to do as she says."

Oh, I want to. But, I am _not_ going to fall for him.

"Is that the only reason?"

"Maybe."

"I'm going to put that in the unnecessary basket, then."

He leans forward conspiratorially and it only makes me want to close what little distance there is between us all the more. "And, if I said that I just _want_ to kiss you...?"

It takes every fiber in my being for me to say these next few words, "Let's go with the rule that, if you have to ask, it's unnecessary."

He nods as he thinks about it. "Okay. I can work with that," he says with finality in his tone.

"Good, good."

I nod, smile, and turn to leave. I'm just starting to feel slightly disappointed he hasn't kissed me when suddenly he has my hand. He pulls me to him, his hand caressing my face much _too_ gently for comfort. But before I can give that too much thought, James's head descends and claims my lips with his own.

Kissing James Potter is different every single time - and it only gets better. Kissing him feels like the morning of your seventh birthday, or on Christmas Day opening all of your gifts; like you're standing on the cusp of the perfect day. It's like the peak of a roller coaster just before the big drop, when everything is laid out in front of you and your whole life is contained in that one single moment of optimistic bliss.

Unfortunately, he pulls away before my brain shortens out. My breath comes less easily than I would like.

"What was _that_?" I ask breathlessly.

He casts me a lopsided smirk. "I decided I'd just never ask."

" _James_!" I hiss as his hands slide down my back to rest on the curve of my arse. "Hands in new places, mister! Hands in new places."

Something shoots through his eyes too fast for me to recognize, but he's smiling again momentarily. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Can and will," I say, shaking my head and trying not to smile. I fail miserably. "Can and will."

* * *

I've seen James Potter without a shirt on, I really have.

Sometimes he takes his shirt off during Quidditch practice - along with every other male on the team - and a whole array of gaggling girls will swing by to watch and disrupt everything. I can recall these moments as a rather dismissive event.

Nothing more than a slight annoyance.

Now, however, for some infuriating reason, I'm finding it inexplicably hard to notice _anything_ else.

I continually find my gaze drifting over the hard ridges of lean muscle rippled over his chest and stomach, giving way broad, toned shoulders on one and and sharply cut hipbones on the other. They stretch and loosen with every bloody movement the sod makes, and I'm really starting to wish that he would forget how to breathe...

"...led me to thinking we should go on a date," James is saying as he leans casually against one of the posts of my bed.

Okay, I'm definitely paying attention now.

"A date?"

He nods. "Yeah. A date."

"James, how many times do we have to go over this? _Fake_ dating, remember?" I speak slowly, wondering if he hit his head on the run he just got back from. "Fake dating doesn't require _real_ dates."

He cocks his head to the side, his perspired hair falling into his eyes. "I didn't know you were an authority on fake dating now."

"Oh, I wrote the handbook. Didn't you know?"

He snorts. "I'll bet."

"Shouldn't you be going to wash up?" I inquire offhandedly, gesturing toward the door to my dormitory. "You told me earlier that you wanted to start studying at two."

James shrugs. "For me, two o'clock usually means three."

I sigh. "And you couldn't have told me? I could have studied for my Potions exam, first."

"Which you could pass in your sleep. You're amazing at every subject."

"Only because I study!"

"You study too hard. Haven't you been spending every night for the last two weeks studying? Every time we've been together, you have a book cracked open. It's boring, love."

I cross my arms over my chest protectively, feeling somewhat defensive and just a little awkward. "Well, it takes my mind off the fact that I've lost my two best mates and I'm pretending to date the biggest arsehole at school."

"Ha!" James cries and I look up quickly, my eyebrows raised in question. "So, I beat the git at _something,_ at least."

I try valiantly to hold back the smile his triumphant look elicits. "Thatis _not_ an achievement to be proud of."

He shrugs. His whole demeanor is his usual level of nonchalance, except for his eyes. They're watching me carefully. "Beating him at anything is an achievement to be proud of. Although...," he trails off thoughtfully. "...being the first to kiss you is probably the sweetest of them all."

"'First'? Do you actually think you're unfortunate enough to be my first kiss, or do you think Erick will want to kiss me one day?"

He smirks, but his eyes are hard. "'Unfortunate' is not the word I'd use. And I thought that was the whole point of this little exercise? Make the git jealous so he'll realize he picked the wrong girl?"

"Half the point," I remind him. "Well, one-third the point, really. I thought I was helping you avoid the flirts _and_ helping you get one over Erick?"

He nods, considering what I've said. "This is true."

"So, really, _you're_ getting more out of this than me."

"It could be seen that way, yeah," he says hesitatingly, like he isn't sure he likes where I'm going with this.

"Why _do_ you want to avoid your fans, James? Have they gotten boring?" I tease.

"Yes."

I blink in surprise at his blatant answer. "What?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair, perching himself on the edge of my bed. "I... Wow. Thinking about explaining it to you now sounds kind of shallow."

"That's nothing less than I'd expect from you."

He casts me a quick grin. "Okay, yeah. I got bored. The girls here aren't challenging, Elle. There's just no thrill of the chase for me - they don't make me work for it. It's just all superficial, meaningless, and monotonous. I mean, sure, it can be _satisfying_ in some ways. If you get my drift-"

I didn't, but I do now. "Drift got." I grimace.

"-but it's not exciting. I decided I had enough. I figure that my time is better spent on Quidditch, maybe even my grades so Neville doesn't have anything negative to report back to my parents."

"I'd say those are sort of some admirable goals you've got there."

"And if I admit that the goals came _after_ the boredom?"

I snort. "Then I'd say that sounds like you."

"Y'know, I like that you don't tell me what you think I want to hear," he sniggers.

"I'm just trying to make sure that our plan is believable. Not to be satisfying."

"You'd certainly be a challenge...," he murmurs slowly, with a hint of flirtation.

I laugh and wave off his comment. "Well, I'd certainly make you work for it. Only, there won't be anything waiting for you at the end. So, don't get your hopes up."

"It's not my hopes I need to keep down, love." He winks and I clear my throat like it's going to suddenly stop my cheeks from flaming red.

"Just here to keep the wolves away, remember?"

He shrugs like it's all arbitrary to him. Or maybe like we both know I'm doing this for another reason, but he isn't going to correct me. Except I'm not here for any other reason and I think we both need a reminder.

"Which brings me back to the date thing. Why do you think we should go on a date?"

"Seems like something a couple might do," he says as he shifts his weight on the bed, and I tell myself not to avidly stare at the way his stomach muscles move in the process.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?" I blurt out.

He chuckles. "Like what you see?"

 _Yes._ "No."

"There's no shame in admitting it," he says. _Yes, much shame. Epic proportions of shame_. "Here, I'll go first. I think you're fit."

I'm pretty sure I'm blushing. "We've already had this conversation. I-I'm not."

"Well, I don't know what kind of friends you had before, and I hate to shatter that fragile sense of self you've got going on, but you _are_." He extends his arm out towards me and tilts my chin upwards a little. "Your eyes are a crazy amazing color. Brown with gold flecks in them."

"Hardly sexy," I mutter and he frowns like he isn't going to put up with my negative attitude.

"You're the only one here who thinks so, then."

"James, just _stop-_ "

"Also, you have this intelligently insulting wit. Your smile is beautiful and annoyingly infectious. And your body, Elle - why do you think I'm constantly touching you?"

"You're going off script with all these extra compliments, y'know," I point out, trying not to squirm under his steadfast gaze.

"Well, if _some_ people would have been honest with you, then I wouldn't have to. I'm actually disgusted that the people you called your friends let you think otherwise."

"Well, they've never told me that I'm not-"

"They should have told you that you are."

So, no. None of my mates have ever told me I'm attractive. I've occasionally been told that I look better in something than usual, or that a top or new hairstyle looks nice on me. But, I can't remember a single time any of my friends have ever called me 'pretty.' I mean, sure, looks aren't everything. But, when your friends compliment you, they're referring to more than just looks, aren't they? It's a package deal, isn't it?

I don't need to be held to society's view of beauty; I don't need people to think I'm runway worthy. But now that James brings it to my attention, I feel like it would actually be a nice change of pace if someone would think that I look good just as me.

It also dons on me that it's been nearly two years since I stopped asking Vivienne her opinion on my outfits because she always agreed when I asked if I looked...somehow not right.

It occurs to me that James is the first person other than my blood relatives to ever assure me I wasn't unattractive.

And that makes me feel a whole lot of conflicting feelings.

"Why do you suddenly care?" I ask, wanting to stop thinking there's possibly _more_ to James Potter than what I've already discovered.

"Because self-doubt isn't sexy," he replies without missing a beat. "And I'm not likely to be dating a girl who doesn't believe in herself."

I frown. "Arrogance _does_ attract arrogance."

"Exactly." Gone is the sincere expression and back is the flippant tone and hardness in his eyes.

"Well, everyone can be surprised at how un-shallow you were in falling for me, then," I answer sarcastically.

He smirks at me, some sincerity shining through whatever is annoying him. "I think they already are," he quips, casting me a sly wink. "Now, about that date..."

* * *

 **A/N** : You guys, I couldn't wait to get this chapter out! While it does serve as sort of a filter, I still loved writing the interactions between Elle and James!

Is it weird that I fangirl over the two of them...? Lol.

Next chapter will hopefully be up in about a week, or so. I've got TONS of homework to do, so that does take precedence over my story (unfortunately).

Can't wait to hear from you all!

Until the next chapter,

Dev.


	9. Chapter 9 - Heartbreak Warfare

**Disclaimer** : I do not own HP.

* * *

 _"Three's a crowd, but four's a war."  
_ - **Anonymous**

* * *

Hogsmeade days always have this thing about them; there is this buzz of excitement in the air. The students are somehow able to get up earlier than noon, and there are those handful of girls who have this blissful glow because they have date. I _should_ be one of those girls. You know, the glow-y ones...

But I'm not.

I'm a bloody train-wreck.

Hands grasping either side of the porcelain sink with faltering resolve, I stare straight into my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Brown irises speckled with flecks of yellow stare back at me, black pupils glittering with anxious indecision. My red mane frames my face, slightly tousled since I keep running a nervous hand through it. My freckled cheek bones, nowhere near as model-esque as Vivienne's, hold an anxious tinge of pallor.

I'm supposed to meet James down in the Entrance Hall at the double doors in fifteen minutes.

 _Fifteen fucking minutes._

Now, stuck in an anxious rut of indecision, I'm more conflicted than ever.

"Erick or dignity; dignity or Erick?" I ask my reflection with a wry sort of cynicism, finding it ridiculous that I'm actually being force to choose between the two. My pride and confidence has been heavily rooted in my friendship with Erick, and losing one seems like losing the other.

"Merlin, is going on with this whole charade even _worth_ it?" I murmur, caught by the thought - but then an image of Vivienne's smug face clouds over my mind, making my expression twist into a scowl.

If it means avoiding that particularly infuriating expression, then it sure as hell bloody is.

 _But, then again..._

 _No, it is._

 _Yet still..._

 _Ugh, stop it - no._

 _But, what about..._

"Argh!" I growl in frustration, eyes flying shut as arguments and counter-arguments flood my mind. Pros and cons battle viciously within my head, keeping my decision in a game of tug-of-war that is eating up my time.

The emotions running through me are oddly electric at that moment, a mottled mix of renewed anger, frustration, anxiety, and a renegade glimmer of excitement. This decision, while paling miserably in comparison to various others people have to make every day, can do one of two things.

It can help things along and cause Erick to realize _I'm_ the right choice, or it can push him so far out of my grasp that all this has been for naught. Drastic and melodramatic, sure, but still true.

Erick Tilpin is the boy I love...I think.

 _You think?_

And he has been taken away from me by some smarmy, arrogant, little bint-

"Oh, _sod it all to hell_!" I exclaim aloud, knocking shampoo bottles off the rim of the sink as I reach for an elastic. Wrenching my hair into a messy ponytail atop my head and grabbing my trainers by the laces, I swivel away from the unhelpful mirror and shove the door wide open. "I'm going on this sodding date!"

* * *

As I exit the portrait hole ad begin my descent down to the Entrance Hall, something seems a little off. I can't put my finger on it until I reach the last staircase and, by then, the evidence has piled up.

People are either smiling at me or glaring at me.

Some of the smilers are people who has never looked at me once. Some of the glarers are people I've considered friendly acquaintances.

The reason for such a reception is made obvious as I pass the double doors of the Great Hall.

"Well, _I_ heard Erick only hooked up with Vivienne because he found out about Gabrielle and James," someone says from just within inside the elongated room,and I nearly lose my footing.

Another person scoffs. "I heard it was totally the other way around."

"It can't have been," the first girls says. "Gabrielle and James got together like a month ago."

"That's what they say."

"Well I'm behind Gabrielle and James - they're _much_ better together than Erick and Vivienne."

"I'll reserve judgement until I see who lasts longer."

I sneak a peek around the corner and see two girls from Hufflepuff, who I know to be in their fourth year, seated at the end of their house's table. Both girls, along with several others, are some last minute stragglers to stuff their faces before breakfast is cleared and the house elves come in to clean the hall.

"Well," the first girl says, raking her eggs across her plate, "I've seen Vivienne since she hooked up with Erick and she's become a right bitch. I dunno why he's still with her. "

"Meanwhile, Gabrielle looks like a dear caught in headlights every time James touches her. D'you think they've slept together?"

The first girl shrugs. "I heard Erick and Vivienne were pretty close when someone walked in on them."

The second girl scrunches up her nose, all the while spreading some jam on a piece of toast. "Well, I'd rather sleep with James over

Erick _any_ day. Even if he got bored with me."

"He's not getting bored with Gabrielle. You have to have seen the way he looks at her. If they break up, it's because of her."

"Erick will be thrilled."

They giggle in unison and continue eating.

I stare at the stone floor beneath my feet for a moment, not quite sure what to think. I mean, it sounds an awful lot like the school is...what? Betting on us versus them? I know for a fact that those two girls are fangirls of James, so I'm not surprised they sound like they're on his side. But, I'm surprised when that means being on my side by default...

"What am I thinking?" I mutter to myself as I shake my head.

I suddenly feel a hand on my arse followed by an all too familiar voice in my ear. "There you are. You beat me down here."

Sure, the voice is warm and there's something annoyingly pleasant about it. But this is James Potter we're talking about. The guy who _has_ gotten bored - who's openly confided to me that part of the reason why we're doing this is because of his boredom. I somehow keep conveniently forgetting about that.

We're _fake_ dating, that's all. I can't let myself forget because I'm not stupid enough to think that there's anything about me that changes that.

Friends we can do, and I feel like we might actually be close to that. But, what we're doing is faking everything else. _None_ of it is real.

"Watch the hands, James," I say abruptly, my tone serious.

At least he removes his hand quickly. "Whoa. You okay, Elle?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" I wonder aloud, slumping away.

"Uh, well, I haven't seen a tantrum for a while," he answers as he follows me. We both exit the castle together. "You under-caffeinated? Hormonal?"

I round on him and I watch as his green eyes go wide. Though he's a step up higher than me, he's right to be afraid. "Hormonal? Why is that every guys' first assumption? A girl's a little short and you just _assume_ we're hormonal?"

He holds his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't make assumptions." He pauses and leans toward me, whispering between his hands, " _Are_ you hormonal, though? Because I'm okay with it. I mean, I get that it legit messes everything up. You've just got to tell me when to be sensitive."

"Firstly, if that's your theory, ow about just being sensitive all the bloody time-"

He wraps me in his arms and ducks his head to my ear. "Because you're fun to tease and I know you enjoy it." Well, he isn't wrong. For the most part. "But, I get if you don't when you're on the rag-"

"We're not breakable just because we're bleeding, James!" I huff, but I don't pull away because he's making me feel a bit better.

"Oh, I know. I've spent something like three years to work out how to make Lily feel better when it hits. And, believe me, that's not been easy! And, I know you're not all the same. But, I do understand a little of it. Well, I try at least. You've just got to tell me what you need."

I sigh and relax against him. "I'm not on my...period. But, thanks."

"Okay, caffeine then?"

I shake my head against him.

"What's up, then?"

"Nothing. I just... I'm fine now."

He pulls back and tips my chin to make me look up at him. "Elle. Talk to me."

I sigh. "I overhead some girls talking about us, and I...I remembered what we're doing here, okay?"

Those hazel eyes soften. "People are _always_ talking about us, love."

I nod. He isn't wrong about that either.

"What were they saying now?"

"They were betting whether you and I will last longer than Erick and Vivienne."

Surprise crosses his features, then he gets that cocky smirk that's _almost_ charming. "Well, it'll be us. Duh."

"Well, duh," I agree half-heartedly. "It's easy to stick out something fake."

"Elle, what's _really_ the matter?"

 _How about the fact that you're a total enigma and I have to remind myself I don't like you? How about the fact that no matter what we're doing here, none of it's real? How about the fact that a part of me, no matter how minuscule, wants for this to be real?_

"It's just weird to think that people are putting Erick and me on different sides." And, it's true; I've been thinking that too. "I mean, the whole not talking to hi thing is made easier by the fact that he's not standing up for me at all with Vivienne. But..."

"It's just become unavoidably real that you and the git are on opposite sides of the war-zone."

I look up at him sharply. How the hell does he manage to seem to know what I'm thinking all the time?

"Something like that."

He nods, his face as serious and tender as I've ever seen it. "I'm here, Elle. Anything you want. Anything you need. If it gets too much?" He leaves it lingering, but I know what he means and I don't want that.

Sure, I can think we're friends now, but how will we still be friends when we break up? I've been alienating myself from my old comrades and without James and his friends, I'll have no one. It's selfish and probably no more advisable than fake dating James in the first place, but I don't want anything to change. I'm too afraid of what I won't happen _if_ anything changes.

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. It's just... It's taking some getting used to."

He gives me a supportive smile. "You don't have to do it alone."

I have that feeling again - of us being that great together. I don't push it away this time. I let myself believe that whatever friendship we have can survive whatever is coming without mixing up any romantic notion.

"Thanks, James."

And then I kiss him. It's brief and sweet, but toe-curling all the same.

His hand goes to my back to keep me near him. We look each other over and I'm frozen by what I see in his eyes. "What?" I ask bemusedly.

"That's the first time you've kissed me."

I roll my eyes and pull away a little. "I've kissed you before, James."

A smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. "It's the first time _you've_ kissed _me_."

I frown as I realize what he means. "No. It can't be."

"It can, love, and it is."

"I'm _sure_ I've kissed you before."

He shakes his head slowly, and I know he's enjoying this. "You haven't. I would have remembered."

"I _so_ have."

He's still shaking his head, his smile now reaching his eyes. "Nope. Admit it, Elle, you like me."

The tell-tale flush in my cheeks doesn't help me deny it. "No. I hate you, remember?"

He's fighting a smirk as he side-steps me and continues down the steps, pulling me along with him. "Keep tellin' yourself that, love, if it helps you sleep at night."

 _Damn it, James Potter._

* * *

"So, where to first?"

The small, picturesque village is crowded today. Students milling about take up most of the space on High Street, huddled together in small groups. Laughter and the tinkling of bells from the entrances of shops could be heard all around. A weak wind blows through every so often, but it isn't as cold as I expect it to be.

"How about Honeydukes?" I suggest as we weave to-and-fro among the throng.

People do a very poor job of pretending they aren't eyeing us off as we pass by. And I can't help but wonder what they're thinking - what they're saying. Are they trying to judge how long James and I are going to last just by looking at us? Does anyone guess this is all pretend?

James takes my hand in his, interlacing his fingers through mine, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. It's almost as if he knows I'm stressing. I lean into him as a silent 'thank you' and I have a feeling he gets the message.

Once inside the small, quaint shop I'm taken aback by the shelves upon shelves of the most mouth-watering sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees... And so, _so_ much more.

"I'm going to head over to where the chocolate frogs are!" I shout to James. It's loud in here. Students of every year are browsing to find their favorite goodies, as well as a professor or two.

I grab a handful of chocolate frogs and chocolate wands. I then push my way to where all of the different types of fudges are lined up. I pick some milk and dark chocolate ones, and a few toffee ones for Perry. He's obsessed with toffee, but he claims that he's just bewitched with its taste.

Afterward, I find James at the front of the shop, checking out the shelf with all of the new products they're testing out. Some of them usually end up tasting great while others are okay, not ones you'd enjoy all too much.

"Hey." I come up behind him. He rotates around to face me, only to break out grinning upon seeing me loaded down with sweets.

"So I take it you like chocolate...?" he chuckles.

"Yeah. Aren't _you_ a chocolate person?"

"I'm more of a hard candy person, actually."

"Why am I dating you, again?" I tease as we stand in line to ring up my sweets. The is about eight people long at the moment, and is growing by the minute.

"That would be because of my dashing good looks, of course," he motions to his fit body. _Thank Merlin he's not shirtless this time._

"I think it's because of the all-access pass to the Gryffindor changing rooms," I joke.

He chuckles, hands stuffed into the pockets of his denims. "Didn't know you had it in you to take advantage, Elle."

"But you don't know a lot about me, do you?" He really doesn't.

"That I don't." He admits, sounding reluctant to do so.

"So... What's your favorite candy?" I try to keep the conversation going. The checkout line is now down to six people.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," he answers. "And Liquorice Wands. You?"

"Chocolate Frogs."

James scrunches his nose up. "I never did get what all the hype around those is about."

"Maybe because they're good...?" I tend to keep a stash of them somewhere in my dorm. In our third year, Vivienne found my stash and, for revenge for something I did (it's been some time ago so I don't remember what) she gave them to Perry. Once Perry found out they were mine, he gave them back.

He shrugs noncommittally. "I dunno. They hop around too much, and I find the cards really annoying."

The line moves and we step forward.

"I used to find the cards really interesting when I was younger. Now, though, I don't really pay much attention to them." At the time I collected them, I got all of them except for Chauncey Oldridge, the first known victim of Dragon Pox.

"Most of the ones I've opened had my dad's card inside," he explains, eyes forward. I can tell he's gritting his teeth and his jaw is tense at mentioning his father.

"Uh, yeah... He does come up a lot on the cards," I say absently. James's eyes flash over to me, and he casts me a tight-lipped smile. I can't help but follow-up with a personal question. Curiosity _really_ needs to stop getting the better of me. "D'you get on well with your dad?"

James doesn't take _too_ long to answer, but he does seem as though he has to give it some consideration. "Sure. I mean, more so now than when I was younger. Al was always the one Dad coddled the most."

The mentioning of James's family piques my interest. It's not very often that one is allowed an all-access pass to the famous Wotter clan.

"So, were you a mummy's boy, then?" I quip, nudging him in his side.

James chuckles, staring out of one of the shop windows. He appears to be deep in thought. "Yeah, you could say that.. My mum's a spitfire, if I've ever seen one. She's never been afraid to put me in my place when I need it." His green eyes then flash over to me, and my breath hitches in my throat as they meet mine; there's a sort of fondness in his stare. "Kind of like you do."

I'm happy in that I don't have to come up with a response to that, because I'm an a loss for words, as I notice that it's our turn at the counter. _Thank Merlin._ I step up and pour out my candy as the woman begins to ring up each item. I pull some coins out of my pocket, weighing them in my hand, as the lady tells me the total. However, James has already beat me to it and hands over his money.

Oh, no. He's _not_ doing that.

"Here, this should be enough," I say, trying to pull James's hand full of sickles and knuts away from the cashier to give her mine. He doesn't budge, however.

The middle-aged woman behind the counter observes us, her eyes darting between us. "Oh, how sweet!" she coos. And, of course, she ends up taking his money over mine. She goes on to gush about how adorable it is that James is paying.

"You didn't have to do that," I grumble under my breath.

"It's not like I'm breaking my vault at Gringotts, Elle," he retorts, veering his eyes into a roll.

"Still. I could have paid for my own sweets, thank you very much."

"I never said you couldn't. I'm just being polite."

"Is that all for you two?" the lady chirps, earning our attention once more.

"Actually, can I get a few of every new product you have?" James wonders.

My eyes widen as the lady looks as though she's about to break out dancing on the spot. No doubt she thinks Ambrosius, the store owner, will give her some sort of promotion for selling so many items. It takes a minutes for her to bag everything for us, then James hands over several more coins. As we bustle out of the still crowded shop, she calls out, "Hope you two lovebirds enjoy the rest of your day!"

When we make it back outside, I see that the streets are clearer. You can actually see the cobblestone path and the colorful displays of the various storefronts.

We end up sitting on a bench nearby. James is slouched back with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, while mine are folded under my chip. At first, I don't talk to him much, still a little annoyed at his show of gentlemen-ness. I'm just unnerved by it all.

But it isn't long before we both tuck in and we're testing out all of the new sweets that Honeydukes has to offer.

" _Ugh_!This one has cherry syrup inside."

"Don't like cherry?"

"I don't like to mix fruits and chocolate."

"This sugar quill doesn't taste good."

"That's because it's cheese flavored, Elle."

"Nasty! Who ever even thought of this?"

"Bloody hell! I think I ate an acid pop. I can't feel a part of my tongue!"

"Open up, let's see your tongue. Wait... No, it isn't an acid pop - you don't have a hole in your tongue."

"Thank Merlin."

"This is a...crystallized grape."

"Does it taste good?"

"Yeah."

"...this tastes _horrid_! I can't get the taste out of my mouth."

"Yeah... I kind of lied."

"Bint."

"Here, have some chocolates."

"...this isn't chocolate."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know! Read the label."

"Oh... _oh._ Well, that's not good."

"What is it?"

"Earwax."

"What?!"

"I'm joking, James. It's this weird combination of tamarind, chocolate, and nugget."

"Well, it tastes disgusting. I'm never getting it again."

Next, it's James's choice of where we go. He ends up deciding on us heading over to Spintwitches Quidditch Supplies. He informs me that they have a shipment of new gloves that he wants to take a gander at.

"It's made from Bulgarian leather, which doesn't tear easily," the shop owner explains to James as displays them to him. Another customer nearby quickly catches his attention, so he steps away from us for a moment.

"Elle, what do you think?" James inquires, peering over at me expectantly.

"Why are you asking me?" I respond with a question of my own.

"Because I _know_ Perry keeps you up to date with all things Quidditch," James answers, smirking knowingly.

He's right, of course. Whether I want to know about it or not, Perry keeps me well-informed when it comes to the sport. I take the glove and weigh it in my hand. It's heavy, which may make it longer but will make the wearer too uncomfortable. The leather _is_ nice, but it's crimson color will fade in no time. The fingers are also a bit thinner than I think it should be; they'll tear sooner rather than later.

"Not worth it," I murmur so the shopkeeper doesn't hear me.

"I thought as much." He places it down and starts to inspect some of the Quidditch goggles.

I pick up a magazine and slip through it. It's not one that I would usually read, and now I know why I don't. It's filled with the latest gossip about players from the PQL (Professional Quidditch League) than the sport itself. It does have some nice posters, though. _The one of Viktor Krum is_ very _distracting..._

James comes up behind me, catching me unaware. Before I can close it, he spots the Bulgarian seeker.

"My aunt Hermione dated him once," he informs me, smirking. "She said he was a nice bloke, but more of a - how'd she put it? - 'physical being.' Uncle Ron goes red _anytime_ someone in the family mentions him. D'you fancy him, then?"

"Definitely not."

"Then which Quidditch player does it for you?" He crosses his arms over his chest and props himself up against one of the shelves filled with snitches.

"You really wanna know?" I sigh, quirking a brow.

"Yeah."

"Stephen O'Leary." Light-brown, windblown hair, gorgeous grey eyes, and a few freckles. _Not to mention his muscles..._

"The Chudley Cannons Keeper?" He snorts.

"How can you _not_ like Stephen O'Leary?" I demand, narrowing my eyes just a bit. He isn't a playboy; he's kind _and_ funny, and his skills as a Keeper are fantastic.

"I'm just not a Chudley Cannons fan." He shrugs.

"Holyhead Harpies, right?" I assume, knowing his mother was a Chaser for the team for some years.

"Well, they _are_ better than the Cannons."

I scoff. "You're just biased because your mum was on the team."

"Uh-huh, sure," he mumbles, sarcasm twined in his words, grinning. "Say, wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah, sure."

I follow James out of the store. My stomach takes that as a cue to let out a growl.

"Three Broomsticks, I take it?"

"Definitely," I answer, thankful for lunch. I'm hungry, which my stomach has made an excellent job of pointing out.

The small, cramped pub/inn is warm, crowded, welcoming, and a bit smokey. A mirror behind the bar reflects the cozy atmosphere, and drinks such as Butterbeer and Firewhiskey are served in glasses and pewter tankards to those who occupy the stools at the counter. It takes some time for us to locate an empty table, but once we do James and I situate ourselves across from each other in mismatched chairs.

James busies himself with looking at one of the menus already provided for guests on the table, while I drum my hands on the dark wooden surface and peer around to see who else is here.

Darren Ackard and Wren Kingston are getting quite cozy in one of the booths some odd feet away; Tom Marin and Paige McCullers are sharing an ice-cream float; Samara Vane and Archer Dunhill are feeding each other chips out of a basket... And it hits me like a ton of metaphorical bricks - we're surrounded by couples.

 _Real_ couples.

Shit.

"Already know what you want to order?" James wonders aloud, lowering the menu and peering over at me quizzically.

"Fish and chips," I respond, still scanning about the room. Only a handful of people in here aren't coupled up, I notice much to my chagrin. "Oh, and a Butterbeer."

"Comin' right up!" James then excuses himself to go place the order for our food.

It's just as I settle myself in to wait for James's return that I hear a voice speak up that I haven't heard in weeks. "So, _what_ was that you told me not too long ago, Elle? _'Help me tell Erick how I feel, Viv. What do I say?'_ And you were dating _him_ the whole time?"

With a condescension I don't realize I possess, I peer to my left and look her up and down. Vivienne Bloor is, by all accounts, a refined beauty. Her silky, sandy-blonde hair is styled in loose curls to frame her dainty features, flowing effortlessly down her back. Her lips are painted red and pulled back into a sneer as her crystalline eyes, currently narrowed, are heavily lined with eyeliner that takes expert precision to apply. Her button nose is slightly scrunched.

She's currently seated at the next circular table over, arms and legs crossed as she surveys me judging-ly.

" _You_ were with him while you were goading me into it," I scoff. "What? You wanted to make me feel like a bigger idiot when he shut me down? You didn't even have the decency to tell me, Vivienne."

"We were _going_ to." There's something hard about her eyes, even as the rest of her face is looking appropriately apologetic and sincere.

"Oh, yeah, when? When I got your wedding invitation?"

"I didn't know _how_ to tell you, okay? It just happened. One minute we were laughing, then we were kissing. We only made it official after I talked to you on Sunday."

"This is _so_ making me feel better. I thought we were always honest about him."

"I didn't know how I felt about him until we kissed."

Perry's words fly around my head and I'm sure I see written on her face how clearly that statement is a lie.

But, I'm going to try and be the bigger person. "I wouldn't have minded so much if you'd just given me a head's up-"

"Why would that have mattered? You were with James Potter almost a week before." _Oh, yeah. Good point..._ I need to start remembering that. "And, I mean, James Potter? _Really,_ Elle, what were you thinking?"

I'm certainly not thinking what I know she's thinking; namely that she would be quite happy to sleep with him and that she is seriously wishing that she would have thought of doing it first.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, Vivienne. _You_ should know that better than anyone," I reply icily. "Besides, you've told me on numerous of occasions that you'd do him. So, how's me dating him any worse?"

"Because a quick shag is nothing. Dating means you _like_ the guy."

I shrug. "So, what if I do? He's a laugh, nice, sweet, _and_ he's got abs like you wouldn't believe." _Merlin, how much of that isn't a lie?_ "And, y'know, hanging with James and his mates isn't all bad."

Okay, so I'm still not _that_ acquainted with them - and I'm almost certain Andrea Kennish would like to skewer me - but Vivienne doesn't need to know that.

"Sorry? Did I hear that right?" she scoffs and looks me over like dirty garbage. "Figures you'd pick _their_ company over ours. I really can't wait until he gets _bored_ with you."

Oh, that riles me up. That gets a fire going in my belly and makes me want to rip her to pieces. I mean, she wouldn't be wrong if James and I were _actually_ dating. But, for some reason, I still bristle against the implication he's just using me. Him sing me on _my_ terms is fine, any other terms and no so much.

"D'you know what, Vivienne? You can go get fucked. You _and_ Erick. If five years of friendship isn't enough for _either_ of you to be honest with me, then I don't want _or_ need you in my life. I knew how would you feel about me dating James, and honestly I wasn't entirely sure it would stick because he is _the_ James Potter, after all, and Erick was my best mate. But, you two made the decision simple for me. It wasn't even a choice; you two dumped me before I even thought about it. So, I can have James and you two can bloody well have each other. You don't seem to need me, anyway."

Vivienne's eyes shine the way they do when she's trying not to cry when we watched rom-coms, and the couple at the end _finally_ get together, because she knew I'd tease her. Except these aren't tears of happiness, these are tears of sadness and annoyance - if they're even real - and I feel my own welling.

"Well, I see how it is, then. If our friendship isn't worth _you_ being honest with _us,_ then we don't want you either."

"Fine."

" _Fine."_

Vivienne clucks her tongue in frustration, glowering at me, all the while simultaneously getting to her feet, grabbing her Burberry coat (she's always been one for designer _everything_ ) and leaving her table in a huff. With resignation, I watch her go, not surprised to see her make her way over to where Erick stands near the bar, no doubt awaiting his order.

I watch as she stage-whispers something to him, gesturing back in my direction. Erick does nothing through the whole thing other than look slightly pained as he looks at me almost apologetically. And then she has him out the door in a tizzy.

James returns some odd minutes later with a platter of shepherd's pie and a garden salad, my fish and chips, and two Butterbeers.

If he notices my sour mood, he doesn't take note of it right away.

"Thanks," I grumble, digging in. All of a sudden, my appetite is evading me and I can't bring myself to enjoy my deliciously greasy meal.

"You doing okay?" he asks softly, after a while.

I peer up through my lashes, glancing across the table at James. He's casting me an assuring, yet lopsided smile.

"Should I not be?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Just thought that little row with Vivienne might be getting to you."

 _So he_ did _see._ "You saw that, huh?"

He places a warm hand over mine, running the pad of his thumb in comforting circles across the back of my hand. "It's okay if you do't want to talk about it, Elle. Just... I'm here, if ever you _do_ want to talk."

I should _not_ find him adorable. I should _not_ like the gentleness of his eyes _or_ the way he looks at me. I definitely _should_ find him annoying, pushy, and stupid. _Not_ charming and endearing. So, I try to hide my smile.

"Thanks, James, but I think's it's best if we not make things harder than they need to be, yeah?"

He leans closer to me, his eyes flickering to my lips fleetingly then back to my eyes. "I don't think that's possible, love."

I laugh at the implication in his tone - shouldn't, but I do - and lean away from him. "Of course. And, it's back to your cock _again_. Come on. We're putting on an act for the people at school, let's not confuse ourselves with what's _really_ going on."

"Nothing wrong with us being _real_ with each other, either," James says persuasively.

"Call it a complication."

"It's only a complication if you make it one, Elle," he retorts back quickly.

And just as I open my mouth to fire something back, he leans across the table and claims my mouth with his. I suddenly can't decide what I want more; to keep kissing him or to never kiss him again.

James Potter is nothing I want in a guy, but his touch makes my heart sit up and pay attention and causes my skin to catch fire. It's crazy, but I can no longer deny it; he has an effect on me that is both undesirable and addictive.

* * *

A/N: Well...? :)

Guys, this is my longest chapter to date!

I'm super-duper excited to hear what you all think! I have to say that I'm pleasantly surprised with the way this chapter turned out. I was nervous, at first, but overall I'm rather pleased with it. I swear, Elle and James have a mind of their own... lol.

Also, Vivienne _finally_ made her long-awaited appearance! Thoughts on her exchange with Elle...?

Anyways, I hope this chapter finds you all well! This quarantine is nasty business, so I hope you guys are doing okay. Positive thoughts/vibes coming your way from me! xx

Until the next chapter,  
Dev.

P.S. Thanks so, so much to those of you who have reviewed! Means the world to me!


	10. Chapter 10 - Peace of Mind

**Disclaimer** : I don't own HP.

* * *

 _"You're my favorite place to go to when my mind searches for peace."  
_ **-Anonymous**

* * *

I look up from my plate of food when I hear an unnaturally high-pitched giggle, followed by, "Oh, _James_!" My eyes dart throughout the Great Hall until I spot James standing in the doorway of the elongated room, accompanied by a sixth year girl from Slytherin, Claire Rothschild. She is currently leaning up against him, her hand on his chest, and peering up at him as she bats her eyelashes. I know flirting when I see it, not that I'm terribly good at it myself. I watch on with mild disinterest as he pushes her away with a charming smile.

But, it seems she isn't giving in that easily as she angles her bigger-than-average breasts towards him.

"D'you share him? Or just know you can't keep him honest?" Vivienne suddenly appears beside me, causing me to nearly jolt out of my own skin in shock.

"What?" I ask, genuinely dumbfounded.

She kicks her head to James. "Is there a limit to how many other slags your _boyfriend_ gets to hook up with? Or do you play it by ear?"

I frown at her, wondering where the hell my best friend has gone. I also wonder if maybe she _has_ liked James this whole time. I just don't know why she has to be acting like this and dragging him down with her.

Then, the actual implication of her words hit me and I realize a sight like James being hit on is supposed to make me annoyed because we're dating. And I won't deny that a part of me feels a little jealous about it, but I've momentarily forgotten that my automatic response is suppose to be one of outrage and indignation, not amusement and indifference.

I deepen my frown at Vivienne, then stand from my spot at the Gryffindor table and amble over to James and Claire. I can't tell you what my plan is, because I have no bloody idea. But when I get there, I somehow manage to wedge myself between the pair, grasp James's scarlet-and-golden striped tie and bring his face down to my level as I snog the hell out of him.

Faking it or not, I may be throwing a little more into it than I originally meant to, and James's response is dangerously close to making my knees go weak. By the time we pull apart, we only have eyes for each other. Except, I can't look too hard into his eyes because there's something there that something in me wants to respond to, but can't. Not if I'm walking away at the end of all this with my dignity intact.

"What was _that_ for?" he asks, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, you didn't like it?" I ask flippantly, pushing off of him. I notice that Claire is no longer with us, as I can see her wild mane of curls bounce as she struts away from us and toward the Slytherin table.

James grabs my hand, however, and pulls me back to him. "On the contrary, love, I liked it far _too_ much," he says, running a finger down my cheek. "It just seemed a little out of character for you."

"Just thought you could use a reminder as to who you're dating."

He leans to my ear. " _Fake_ dating, remember?" It doesn't go unnoticed by me that he's taking a page from my book and use my own line against me.

I shrug and decide to throw his usual reply back at him, "Sure."

"You keep kissing me like that and I might forget that we're faking it, Elle."

"James Potter doesn't know how to real date." I push away from him again and cast him a wink. My heart has this weird feeling in it, but I keep my smile in place.

He grins at me, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I dunno. Saturday seemed like a pretty good date to me."

I scoff. "Says he guy who's only been on... Count them, _one_ date."

He smirks, lighting up his eyes. "Well, you'll just have to take me on more."

"Maybe I will."

His smile grows for a second, then he presses a quick kiss to my forehead as he takes my hand and we head back to the Gryffindor, all the while trying my best to ignore the numerous sets of eyes following our every movement. I spot Vivienne's face over at the Ravenclaw table, glaring; she has the oddest look on her face. I swear she looks as though she's plotting my most grisly murder, but she also looks lke a five-year-old who's lost their parents at the zoo.

"Ignore her, Elle. She and the git can suck it."

"She probably does," is out of my mouth before I can remind myself what a filter is.

James snorts and his hand tightens on mine. "Is that me having a bad influence, or are there sides to you I haven't met yet?" he inquires, amused.

I nudge him with my shoulder. "You'll have to wait and find out."

"Looking forward to it. But I put my money on it being the second one." He gasps dramatically. "Don't tell me, Little Miss Prim-and-Proper has a dirty side!"

I feel my cheeks warm. "No. Of course not."

As we take our seats at the table, James pulls me flush to his side. I peer up at him as be breaths in heavily. "You do!" he whispers excitedly with a smile like all of his Christmases have come at once.

"I do not." I try not to smile from awkwardness.

"Oh, you so do," he chuckles, wrapping his arm around my waist and dips his lips to my ear. "And what does it take to bring out this dirty side?" The boy is practically purring in my ear.

 _You._

Goosebumps chase themselves across my skin and I swear my heart is practically beating out of my chest. "That would require me having one, James," I choose to say aloud, praying I sound convincing enough.

His hand leaves my back and slides downward. I frown at him expectantly as I watch him trying not to smile. Honestly, a part of my doesn't care that he's touching my arse. It's the implication I can't let sand; the touching of arses or anything else remotely more tan lips will send him the wrong message. We aren't really dating; ergo there is to be no...funny business. Our date in Hogsmeade is to be the only exception.

James doesn't move his hand this time and I don't do anything to make him. "Did you lock it up because the git is a prude? Or was it Vivienne?" he asks, a challenge in his eyes.

I press my lips together to stop my smile before I answer. "Neither. Just because you're dirty enough to make Lucifer blush doesn't mean the rest of us are."

James is damn close to that infectious charm. "You're getting comfortable with me, Elle," she states observantly.

 _Yes._

"I'm doing nothing of the sort."

"You are. You're-"

"Right, out with it then," Fred Weasley interrupts, plopping himself down on the opposite side of the table. He begins piling his plate with eggs, fried sausage, slices of tomato, etc. "How'd the date go?"

James chuckles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, while swiping a sausage pattie from Fred's plate. "Sorry, mate. I don't kiss and tell."

Fred's visible excitement fades, only to be replaced a moment later with a knowing smile. "Well, then... I'm expecting to be best man." He winks as he points between us, as though it's decided.

I try hard to keep a straight face as James sighs. "Freddie, it's not-"

"The hell it isn't," Fred interjects, his face falling. He then casts me a look that gives me the weirdest feeling, like he's disappointed with James because he thinks his cousin is treating me badly by not admitting that there's more here.

"And what if I'm just a prude?" I wonder.

James snorts and I glare at him, knowing he's still thinking about my apparent 'dirty side.'

"Oi! Don't be rude to Belle," Fred demands, shoving his fork into James's face.

"It's _Elle,_ man," James corrects him, beating me to it.

" _Belle_ is better suited for her, I think," Fred muses, nibbling on a piece of toast. "The world 'belle' means pretty, in French. At least, that's what Auntie Fleur told me. Besides, aren't _you_ the one who came up with it back in our first year?"

 _"Can I call you Belle?"_ the smug voice of the little boy with the hazel eyes and unruly dark hair from all those years ago on the platform suddenly filters into my memory. My mind starts reeling; it's almost like finding a long-lost piece of an almost forgotten puzzle.

"That was _you_!?" I ask incredulously, my eyes narrowing at James. As I take in his handsome features, I can almost _see_ him as that eleven-year-old boy, just with softer, not-so-defined features and longer, un-tameable inky hair.

James doesn't even have the audacity to be embarrassed by his past actions. He smirks and remarks, "Guilty. I was quite the charmer even then, eh?"

"Not even," I snort, veering my eyes into a roll.

"Oh, I'm lookin' forward to this," Fred snorts.

"There's _nothing_ to look forward to," I emphasize to Fred.

"I beg to differ," James whispers in my ear before kissing my temple and I _almost_ feel like everything is okay for a moment.

And then...

"How long have you known?" the question is out of my mouth before I can give it a second thought of consideration. He doesn't get the chance to answer, however. _Bollocks._ We're soon joined by Maisie Yewbeam and Andrea Kennish; both girls seat themselves on either side of Fred, each of them tucking in.

"Tell us about the big date, you two!" Maisie requests cheerily, by way of greeting.

"Yes, we're so excited. We just can't wait a minute longer," Andrea drawls with more sarcasm than I thought any one person can ever own. But I know I have to wait for that cold day in Hell before even a tiny drip of water melts off that cold exterior.

James gives me a light squeeze. "Andy, can I talk to you?"

Andrea peers at James and nods. He lets go of me, gestures for Andrea to follow him, and they head back down the table. They both seat themselves at he end of he Gryffindor table and begin conversing.

"C'mon, c'mon! I want to hear the goss!" Maisie squeals.

"Uh, well, we went to Honeydukes..." I start, my eyes still on James.

As I tell Fred and Maisie about the date, my gaze keep sliding to James and Andrea. They're obviously arguing, but it's the sort of fighting only people really close do. The sort of fighting where you can say anything and you know your relationship with the other person can't be ruined. Eventually, James pulls her into a hug and she hugs him back fiercely.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be jealous or hope I'm not ruining whatever they have. On one hand, maybe Andrea feels for James like what I've felt for Erick and is just really good at hiding it. On the other hand, maybe they're just really good friends. I'm honestly not sure _what_ to think - the evidence can go either way.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Andrea isn't in a hurry to soften her attitude toward me anytime soon. And, in a way I can't blame her. In fact, I'm _glad_ for it. Anything to help me remember that none of this is real because James and I are becoming far _too_ good at faking it, and it's becoming all _too_ easy for me to worry about the consequences of getting too physical.

The fact is, James's kissing aside, I really do enjoy spending time with him. He's nothing like I thought him to be. He's actually quite nice, he makes me laugh, he's smarter than I expected, and he's always attentive. It's weird, seeing there be more to someone than I thought was so black-and-white.

But, _all_ of James's friends are like that.

Whenever I'm with Maisie and she sees a cute bloke, she nudges me the way Vivienne used to. I'm all at once touched by how nice she is to me, and saddened by the way my friendship with Vivienne has gone sour. Mind you, there's still a persistent voice in the back of my head that warns me Maisie's niceness can easily be a ploy and she's just lulling me into a false sense of security. But each time we're together she continues being nothing short of sweet toward me, which causes the inner voice to quieten down.

Fred and Tyrone (who's been insistent on my calling him Ty) are the nutters of the group - definitely never a dull moment with them around. Both of them are thrust into the spotlight at Hogwarts due to their wicked sense of humor (just last week they charmed the first year's brooms to shoot out sparkles) and agreeable presence. But I find that I get on with Fred better than Ty, and I think that's just because Fred is a lot less attention-hungry. He's more balanced that way. I find it surprising, really, considering who his dad is.

Zachary Davies, much like Andrea, has been less inviting than the others. Like James, Zach is on the Quidditch team. He's a disciplined sort of fellow, which makes me wonder how he's become friends with the likes of Fred and Ty. He just always seems like he's got a rod shoved so far up his bum he can chew on it. He's also a bloke of few words, but a _lot_ of glares.

"Where have you gone?" James asks, his nose nudging my ear as Fred says something to Zach.

I hug his arms to me and half-turn to him. "Nowhere. I'm good."

"You sure?"

I nod and lean baxk into him. "Totally sure."

"Okay." He kisses my hair and goes back to whatever he, Fred, and Zach have been talking about.

I'm standing with them while James waits to start Quidditch practice. As expected, Zach hasn't looked at me, nor has he directed any conversation toward me. He's acted as if I'm not here - James may as well just be hugging himself. I feel a small twinge of discomfort about that given that I've never encountered being disliked by someone I've had to spend a good deal of time around.

I mean, I can't expect everyone to like me - that's just life.

It isn't long before all of the team members are present, my brother among them. I cast him a small wave as he spots me, to which he only casts me a curt nod. I try not to let my disappointment show. James squeezes me once more before he lets go and follows Fred and Zach onto the pitch.

"Alright, guys!" James's hollers out. "Let's get to it, yeah? Maybe we can all get outta here before we freeze our bullocks off!"

"Female company notwithstanding," Fred calls out, chuckling.

"Female company notwithstanding, aye," James agrees, casting me wink.

I smile, then turn and head up to the bleachers. I watch on as the team begins jogging around the pitch as a warm up until I hear a familiar voice call out to me.

"I'm here! Sorry, I'm here!"

I look over to see Maisie hurrying over to me, her brunette braid flopping haphazardly as she scrambles up the bleachers. She drops beside me while releasing a heavy breath, her dewy green eyes lit with excitement as she watches the team. Half of her face is hidden behind her black-and-yellow scarf, and it's just now I realize how _childlike_ Maisie looks. Yet, pretty all the same.

"You haven't missed much," I assure her, scooting in closer to help reserve some body heat. It's bloody _freezing_ out here, but that's winter for you.

"I got caught up talking to Professor Hagrid about hinkypunks," she explains conversationally, all the while producing a polka-dotted thermos. She conjures up two mugs and they stay afloat as she pours a steamy, light-brown substance in them. "Hot cocoa?"

 _Bless her._

I take offered drink, immediately sighing blissfully as the heated mug warms up my icy hands, and take a tentative sip. Though the liquid is practically scorching, the amazing flavor of the liquid does not go unnoticed. It's perfect mixture of chocolate and peppermint. _"Mmm..._ Did you make this? It's delicious." I ask her.

Maisie chuckles, shaking her head. "No. This is Ceeley's recipe," she answers. "She's a house-elf. She makes the _best_ hot cocoa and snicker-doodles."

It makes sense that Maisie would be on a first name basis with the house-elves, as the Hufflepuff's common room and dormitories are below the castle, near the kitchens. I'm sort of envious that she has almost a direct way into the kitchens, while I'm all the way up on the seventh floor.

"It's a shame for us females that he's so attractive, isn't it?" Maisie sighs, bringing me out of reverie.

"Sorry?"

"Zach," she responds, gesturing to him.

As I watch their practice, Zach's laughing at something Fred and James have done. His face grows open and a carefree, none of the usual closed off arrogance I've been seeing. In fact, when he's around his friends I _rarely_ see that arrogance in anything more than jest. Unless he's looking at me.

"Why's it a shame?"

She gapes at my like I'm some foreign breed. "You mean you don't know?"

"Erm...," I trail off, unsure. "No?"

"He likes blokes, Elle," she tells me lowly, leaning closer. "Most people know, but don't really talk about it. Zach's a bit..."

"...intimidating?" I finish for her, flinching while mentally picturing his broad figure.

"Well, that. And he prefers not to broadcast his love life - he values his privacy," Maisie explains, shrugging.

I mull over what Maisie says as we continue to watch the team practice, all the while sipping on hot cocoa. _It's odd,_ I muse. At Hogwarts, it's expected to know who's dating who, who comes out, who hasn't, what the public's reaction is - over and over again it's reinforced we're supposed to _care._

* * *

I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be able to keep this up. A girl can only pretend that people don't hate her for so long. And the number seems to be growing, not shrinking.

 _Who knew dating James Potter would earn me so many enemies?_

I miss my mates - Erick, Nigel, Vivienne, Emma... But I walked out on them, then started dating Erick's rival. Should I really expect that everything would be the same with them? _Especially_ with Vivienne parading around the school telling everyone how deranged and obsessive I am about James. Not that I've heard any of it in person, but the rumors have spread like wildfire. You can see it in the way the kids look at James and me like they were trying to see how placating he's really being.

It's also added more fuel to the steadily burning fires of the debate as to who is going to last longer, to the discussions of who's the better couple, and the anger coming out of my old friends.

"Ready to go?" says the not so unpleasant voice in my ear as his hand finds its way to the small of my back.

But, I'm not in the mood for any sort of public display of affection in this overly crowded corridor. I pull away from him a little more violently than is probably necessary.

"What have we said about hands!" I hiss angrily.

James's face falls from that uplifting smirk to confusion. "Elle, what's wrong?" he asks and my heart gets even more unsettled at the concern in his tone. Because the _last_ thing I need right now is to hurt his feelings.

"Fine. Aren't you supposed to be meeting up with Fred, Zach, and Ty?" I snap.

I make to leave, but he catches my hand and pulls me back to him. "Talk to me, love. What's happened?"

I sigh, telling myself he doesn't need to get involved in all of my grumps. "It doesn't matter. It's fine. Go, so you don't make the guys wait."

"So, I'll be late." He shrugs, trying to look in my eyes.

 _Score one for the short chick._

He puts his finger underneath my chin and I finally let him tilt my head up, but I made it clear that I'm annoyed with him. He smirks, knowing I'm being stubborn as much for stubborn's sake as I am.

"Don't make me call you 'pookie'..."

I have to bite my lip, but even then I can't help my reaction to him; he make all the bad things seem _less_ bad. With him, I can take a deep breath and put everything into perspective again.

James takes a deep breath, then, and looks at me a little exasperatedly. "Okay, let's go."

Against my better judgement, I give him my hand and decide to follow him. But, he doesn't lead me up to the seventh floor. "James?" I inquire curiously.

"Mmm?" he answers as he pulls me along behind him.

"Where're we going?"

My question is answered a beat later, however, as he tucks us away in a deserted classroom. He closes the door behind us and drops down in a nearby chair, patting the seat beside him. "Sit down."

I look at it in confusion. "You're going to be late meeting the guys, y'know."

"So? What can they do without me there - _I'm_ the captain, remember?"

"James-" I start quite forcefully but he interrupts me as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees and glares at me.

"Elle, before you, most of my time was devoted to Quidditch. Hell, I ate, breathed, and slept it. I can take a few minutes out to prioritize my girlfriend when she's upset." He sets back again. "Now, are you going to sit or make me stand up with you?"

"You're getting too old to stand up?" I stall and he smirks.

"There's a lot of things I'll do for you. But wasting my prime years on unnecessary standing is not one of them."

I snort. "'Prime years'?"

He nods sagely. "Yeah. I'll never again know such good times as these. It's all downhill from here."

I sit beside him with a laugh. "Wow. The things I have to look forward to, huh?"

"Oh, no. You won't hit your prime 'til you're in your thirties." He winks at me and the corner of his mouth can't stay down no matter how much he looks like he's trying to make it.

I nod, fighting a smile of my own. "Yeah, I rescind that question."

"Okay, my turn. What's up?"

"Why do you think anything's up?" I ask, fiddling with my bag strap.

"Okay. It's that sort of day? No worries." He runs his hand over his chin before draping it on the back of my chair. "So, my mum and dad aren't exactly happy with me right now - scratch that. They're _furious_ with me because of my grades. The other day, my little sister was caught by Mrs. Norris II snogging Tad Worthington behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. I've got detention with Filch for the next four Thursdays for laying Worthington out. My brother is more withdrawn than normal - I think it's because he likes some girl, or summat..."

My heart flutters in what I can't decide is excitement or nervousness. We're back to that semi-serious tone and I'm not sure if I want to investigate it more or not. I haven't been brave enough to look into why I feel uncomfortable about the whole potential of James's serious side. I don't know if it's or history or if it's because I'm never going to be free of caring what other people think of me, or any other number of reasons I don't even want to contemplate.

"Where' the world that doesn't care..." I utter.

"What?" James asks.

I shake my head and look at him. "I don't know."

He smiles softly, almost uncertainly. There's nothing of the cocky arrogance about him, but this hesitant demeanor doesn't do anything less for his charm-factor than the smirk that cons you into all sorts of trouble.

I huff a laugh and peer down at my lap.

James breathes out deeply. "I hate the pressure."

"Pressure?" I inquire.

"Of being Harry Potter's son." He sounds so...lost, so uncomfortable admitting that. "There's just so much expectations that comes along with carrying the name. Eventually, someone's bound to be let down because I can't always be there."

I sneak a look at him from the corner of my eye. I decide that maybe, this time around, I can comfort him.

"I'm sorry, James."

He shrugs. "It is what it is. I have Quidditch, my mates, and you-"

"But you're lonely."

He looks at me askance and his smirk barely reaches his eyes. "James Potter is never lonely."

"Maybe not. But it seems _Jamie_ is."

He peers away then, nodding. "Yeah, maybe."

I feel like this is one of those quid pro quo moment. If only because it's a return of the trust he's shown me because there's a lot more than his tone and his eyes are saying about his feelings that the words alone.

"I miss my friends," I say quickly before I lose the nerve to open up to him.

He twitches like he;s trying not to react in a certain way. "Yeah?"

"I-I know it's stupid. And, in the grand scheme of things, I should just get over it, but-"

"Elle, it's not stupid," James turns to me and cups my cheek. "Okay? It's _not_ stupid." He presses a kiss to my forehead and looks as me seriously. "I'm not going to pretend I care about them beyond what they mean to you - you're far too intelligent for that to be anything but insulting. But, I _get_ it. I can't imagine what it would be like if I lost my mates. Fuck, I wouldn't be strong enough to deal with this situation the way you have."

"You mean, deciding to fake date your ex-best friend's rival?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of still being able to smile and not barricade yourself in your dormitory and eat ice-cream by the tub."

I lift his un-tucked white Oxford, admiring his abs. "I somehow don't see you sitting and scarfing down tubs of ice-cream."

He grins. "Trust me, I pay for it dearly after."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. You, me, and at least six tubs of ice-cream."

" _Six_?" I panic.

"One, then."

I nod - that I can do. "It's a date."

His smile is warm as he pulls me into a warm embrace. "The stupidest thing about all this is how much I miss Erick," I tell him, safely unable to look at him with my face pressed into his shoulder. "But then, on the other hand, I sort of don't because he hasn't once stood up for me to Vivienne. And then I remember something we used to do together, something we'd laugh at, and I just miss him so much again."

I feel James stiffen, but then he just hugs me harder. "That I find less easy to sympathize with, but I'm trying."

And, the funny thing, he really does sound like he means it.

* * *

 **A/N** : I very much enjoyed writing this chapter! We got to see more interaction between James and Elle, along with James's friends. :) Now, I know that not a _lot_ happened in this chapter, however it serves as a transition for the upcoming events in the next couple of chapters.

Also, James finally, _finally_ opened up a little of his world to Elle! Any thoughts on that...? I hope I did him justice! 3 And Elle finally figured out that James was that hazel-eyed boy from the platform all those years ago! (Refer back to chapter 7, in the flashback).

Please let me know your all's thoughts! I always look forward to hearing from each of you!

Until the next chapter,  
Dev.


	11. Chapter 11 - Turning Page

**Disclaimer** : I don't own HP.

* * *

 _"If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second."  
_ - **Johnny Depp**

* * *

James's head leans down as he presses his forehead to mine, smiling. "You so do, love; I can see it in your eyes."

I try so hard not to smile that the muscles in my cheeks are already hurting. "I do not," I reply, but it comes out more of a laugh.

He nods. "You do."

"I _don't_ think your charming."

"Why not? I'm totally charming!

I lean one hand on his chest while I cup his jaw. "No. That would be cocky, arrogant, and maybe a _little_ attractive."

He snort. "Only a little?" he demands, mock-indignantly.

I nod. "Those things don't amount to charm."

James opens his mouth, but we're interrupted when someone hollers, "James and Elle!" excitedly as they walk passed us like they're actually cheering for us. The both of us look up, but I assume the person has gone since there isn't anyone close enough to us it could be.

As my eyes scan the corridor, I spot a younger student further down the hallway. He's shaking his head at me in disgust. I'm pretty sure I recognize him as the boy who always wins at Wizard's Chess held periodically in the Gryffindor common room. Then, I'm completely astounded as a girl I know to be one of James's many fangirls walks by and glares at him.

James's hand tightens against my back, but it feels more out of surprise than comfort.

"They're getting _really_ serious about this," he murmurs.

"I thought you loved gossip," I say, peering up at him.

"I'm usually _amused_ by gossip," he answers as his eyes keep scanning the corridor. "And quite often indifferent. _Not_ the same."

"Oh, this isn't amusing?" I tease and he looks at me with a smile.

"You're a comedienne now?"

I nod. "Unlike _some_ people, I'm very charming."

"Yeah, well that's not wrong," he says begrudgingly and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I laugh as I lean into him and we head down the corridor. As we go, I see Erick oddly on his own, for once, just up ahead sitting on a stone bench with his head buried in a book.

I feel James's hand rub comforting circles on the small of my back, and I peer at him and note that he looks totally out of his element. "Have you talked to him?" he inquires with furrowed brows.

"About what?"

James shrugs. "Anything. Everything."

"I, uh... Yeah. A few weeks back," I admit, lowering my gaze down to my shoes. "It didn't seem to help anything, though."

"Maybe you should try giving it another go," he suggests slowly, like he's already regretting saying it.

I look back up at him with a smile, appreciating the effort "You don't really mean that," I murmur.

"If it makes you happy, then I mean it." He's so sincere that it makes my heart flutter uncharacteristically. "I truly do. I'm always on Team Elle, no matter what."

"You don't have to be, y'know."

"What else is a boyfriend for?"

" _Fake_ boyfriend."

The seriousness doesn't leave James's eyes as his teeth catches his bottom lip and he nods once. Something about the action as me feeling a sensation I don't recognize. It coils in the pit of my stomach and moves in calculated doses to the tips of my fingers and toes, but I can't tell you why that is.

"Would you, erm, mind giving me a minute, then?" I stammer.

"Yeah, 'course. I'll be waiting in the stairwell."

"Alright."

He kisses me on the cheek and then he's gone. I shake myself out and walk toward Erick, telling myself that the people in the corridor aren't staring at me in morbid interest and refusing to look because, in reality, I know they are.

"Erick?" I touch his shoulder gently, causing him to jump.

He turns and glances up at me like a mirage he's expecting to disappear again. "Yeah." He nods.

I hesitantly seat myself beside him, placing my bag on my lap. "H-Hey."

"Hi."

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling it becoming dry and tight. "Uh, how've you been?"

He looks at me, and then around the corridor like he isn't sure if it's a trick question. "Fine. You?"

I nod. "Fine."

We sit in seriously sizzling, awkward silence for _too_ many stressful heartbeats. But it's nothing like the sizzle with James; this is all the wrong kinds of discomfort. I can't look at Erick so I stare at the gray stone beneath our feet.

"Did you want something?" Erick finally snaps and I quickly look up at him.

His blue eyes are hard, the skin around his mouth taught as his jaw clenches. There is no sign of the boy I've grown up with - no sign of the boy who binge watched B-rated, horrendous romance movies with me. There's no sign of the boy I learned to fly a broom with, the boy who pretended he wasn't any good at it just so I thought I was better at something for once. Gone was the boy who I talked to almost _every_ night before bed for years. Gone is the boy I shared my Butterbeer floats with, the boy I told most of my secrets to.

The guy in front of me _hates_ me.

I wonder if this is the guy James sees when he looks at Erick - the guy that he's never liked. What sort of person did he see in me when I stood next to Erick? What about James's friends? If it's anything like the guy in front of me now, I'm not surprised that some of them still hate me. I'm honestly surprised more don't still.

"Yes? No?"

I blink. "I just...I dunno. I thought we could-"

"Could what? Talk? You're still with Potter. What's left to say?" He slaps is book closed with finality, eyes narrowing further into angry slits.

"How about an explanation? How about an apology?"

"I don't owe you anything, Elle. I _tried_ to play nice, but you weren't having any of it."

"Erick, listen-"

"No, _you_ listen," Erick interjects, standing to his feet and towering over me menacingly. "You've bloody ruined everything, Elle. Things were fine before you went and mucked it all up! Why, _why,_ couldn't you just be happy for Viv and me?"

I flinch at the bite in his tone. _He's right._

"Viv said-"

I huff in annoyance, despite myself. "I am super sick of hearing 'Viv said,' Erick. Seriously, when are you going to start thinking for yourself?"

"You're one to talk," he retorts, scoffing indignantly. "You've let Potter influence your choices. He's the reason you've quit hanging around us!"

"That was all _me_ , Erick," I sigh, shaking my head. "Avoiding you lot recently; not talking to you in class or the corridors; choosing to spend my time in the library rather than join you in the Great Hall - _all me_. James has nothing to do with that. I just thought it would make things easier for everyone-"

"You mean make things easier for _you_ ," Erick interjects, his tone cutting.

 _Right, again._

I've never felt more embarrassed or ashamed and my cheeks are reminding me of that fact hotly. I know it isn't my fault that I fell for Erick, but maybe if I had mooned over him less with Vivienne, something - _anything -_ could be different. They at least wouldn't have hid it from me and then I could have expected it. Wouldn't have been completely sideswiped by it. Wouldn't have gone mega freak-out, back-away-swiftly over it.

But, what could they have expected? Did they _really_ think that they could date and I wouldn't notice? Am I such a poor, unfortunate wretch that I'm to be pitied and treated like some idiot?

Okay, I'm overreacting.

I know that.

Rationally.

Shame that emotions don't often listen to reason then, isn't it?

I blink hard, hoping the tears aren't going to fall. My hand goes to my nose in some weird, half-arsed attempt to keep the water works back as I push myself to my feet and hurry away from him. I make it several feet before I end up stumbling into a wall of human.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry-" My voice drops when I realize the solid flesh belongs to James.

At seeing him, I just let myself cry, because I know that he'll be able to cheer me up. That realization alone has me feeling like I'm mourning something I've never had in the first place with Erick. It isn't long before James pulls me into a warm embrace and runs a comforting hand through my hair.

" _Shh_ ," James murmurs, tipping my face up to look at him. There's that shine in his eyes, that infectiously ( _not) c_ harming smile, that look that cons my heart into thinking we could be amazing together. As we look at each other, his mouth slowly curls upwards at the corners, and mine matches.

"Potter!" the very recognizable voice of Erick shouts from a few feet behind us.

"Looks as though I've been a _bad_ boy," James teases and I can't help but snort.

"Probably, but I doubt he knows about it."

James chuckles. "True. Unless, he's-"

" _Potter_!" Erick yells again, closer this time.

"Oh, git looks pissed!" James smiles.

" _James_ ," I admonish, quickly wiping at my eyes. I sniffle slightly before turning in James's arms, shocked to see the utter fury

displayed on Erick's handsome face. "Oh, yeah... He's pissed. I've never seen him so - _Erick_!" I yelp as Erick grasps James's shirt, pulls him forward, past me, and punches him in the face.

This causes interest from the students in the corridor and they start gathering around, presumably expecting this fight that I've been hearing about since this whole mess started.

James chuckles, wiping the blood from his cut lip, while taking a step back. "You alright, Tilpin?"

Erick jabs a finger at James. "You think you're good enough for her!?"

"You think _you_ are?"

"I know what you want from her," Erick says as the two boys begin to slowly circle each other, resembling a predatory dance, "and she deserves better."

 _What a turn of events,_ I think in surprise as I watch the spectacle before me.

James is still smirking, but his eyes are hard as they flash to me. "What she deserves is a best mate who isn't going to break her heart by _lying_ to her. And like it's any of your business, but there does happen to be one girl I can't get into bed at this school and that girl happens to be my _girlfriend._ Which is more than fine by me."

The crowd surrounding us is still growing, and muttering can now be heard at that last statement; yes, James Potter freely admitting that he's failed at a conquest for _everyone_ to hear.

"Why would you waste your time on her, then?" Erick seems genuinely confused by this prospect.

James looks at Erick like he's just asked why the grass is purple and he, for the life of him, can't work out what's wrong with Erick to ask such a thing.

"Firstly, arsehat, I'm _not_ wasting time on her," James answers, stepping forward. I actually believe every word he's saying. "Unlike you, I appreciate spending time with Elle, and _not_ for what I think she'll do for me. _If_ we have sex, that's on her terms." Sounds like a slightly pointed message to me, but I'm a little distracted. "And secondly, where do you get off treating her like shit, _then_ trying to dictate _any_ part of her life?"

No longer wanting to use words, Erick lashes out and punches James _again._ And, _again,_ James just lets him. Afterwards, James shakes himself and stretches his jaw, but makes no move to hit Erick back.

 _What are you doing, James?_

"I suggest you walk away, Tilpin..." James says slowly, his voice low. The warning in his tone is apparent and causes my hair to stand on end.

Erick looks both terrified and resolute. "It's _you_ who should walk away from her, prat."

"Well, personally, I think that should be Elle's choice." He stretches his jaw out some more. "She _chose_ me, Tilpin, and I'm _just_ selfish enough to stay with her until she tells me she doesn't want me around. Why don't you run along back to _your girlfriend_? I can't imagine she's going to be very impressed to hear you're fighting for another girl."

"I'm _not_ fighting for her!" Erick grits out, practically seething with contempt.

James chuckles mirthlessly. "Yeah? Well, I _will_ fight for Elle, so _step the fuck off_." A tingle runs through me as my heart rate speeds up, because I bloody well believe that statement.

"Seems to me that you're damaging your reputation with all this, Potter," Erick sneers.

"Oh, yeah? And how do you figure that?"

"Girls will think you've gone soft. Whatever game you're playing with her - whenever you get bored - things won't be the same after. Your reputation won't be the same after."

The crowd watches avidly; I can feel the anticipation coming from then like a palpable, living thing. They're waiting for the huge bust up - like Maisie told me about not so long ago. They're waiting for typical Erick-hating James Potter to stop using his words and start using his fists. I get a feeling they will get what they want soon enough.

"Fuck my reputation! I'm not playing any game with Elle. And maybe I _have_ gone soft, but at least _my_ girlfriend is a gorgeous, smart, funny, beautiful girl who's kind to everyone around her, and not some raging hag happy to step on people to get ahead."

 _Oh, my._ My immediate reaction is to feel conflicted about James raging on Vivienne, and I'm sad and angry that Erick has picked a fight with my (albeit fake) boyfriend, but I realize that they probably deserve it at this point. And it has to be said that my heart is practically soaring over the fact that James is standing up for me in front of who knows how many of our peers with noting but honest radiating off him. James's reputation has just taken a serious nose dive and, weirdly, he can't look any more content about that fact.

Erick twitches and James's pretend joviality falls.

"You hit me one more time and I _will_ swing back, Tilpin. We all remember what happened last time." James's voice is as cold as his eyes as he rolls his shoulder.

Erick looks like he's going to think twice about it, but obviously his brain isn't in charge. He lunges for James, who is ready for him this time. The two boys fight and I wish I could say that I feel bad for Erick. But, honestly, if he's going to use me as some bullshit excuse to fight James, while avoiding looking at me and acting like anyone wanting to be with me is a mystery, he deserves everything that's coming to him.

Erick gets one more good crack to James, who stumbles back a little.

"If you hurt her-!" Erick snarls and, by this point, I'm so _done_ with this stupid display of whose dick is bigger.

I step forward between the two, holding my arms out. "I am _more_ than capable of looking after myself, Erick. No thanks to you."

" _Elle_..." James murmurs, concern in his tone.

Erick's eyes flits to him, narrowing. "I thought only your _friends_ call you that?"

"People who _love_ me get to call me that," I retort without thinking.

"If he's told you he loves you and you believe him, then you're a bigger idiot than I thought." Erick's eyes are full anger and hate, and I'm willing to bet mine aren't much more pleasant.

A hand shoots out and smacks him across his face. It takes me a moment for the pain to kick in - a jolt of it shooting up my arm - for me to realize that it's my hand.

 _Oh, Merlin! That hurt like a bitch!_

" _Ow..."_ I breathe and feel a pair of arms go around me. I know they're James's even without the educated guess by how well I fit between them; I draw far too much comfort from just knowing he's with me, but I really don't have the mental capacity to do more than appreciate it just now.

"I didn't realize it was necessary to let the whole school know something that only needed to be between us," James spits at Erick and I can feel how tense he is; my guess is he's pissed at this point. Whether it's because he blames Erick for the staccato throbbing in my fingers or for me telling the whole school he's in love with me - the verdicts out on that one.

"Yeah, because James Potter fell in love with her," Erick sneers, causing my irritation to grow at the insinuation that someone falling in love with me is unfathomable. Is it so ridiculous that anyone _could_ fall in love with me? Has Erick not noticed me all this time because I'm not that kind of girl?

James's arms holds me tightly. "Just because you couldn't see what was right in front of you, doesn't mean no one wants her, you wanker."

"What?" Erick scoffs. "The man-whore _seriously_ thinks he's fallen in love?"

Under any other circumstances, I would be wondering where the Erick I knew went to, but my hand is hurting _so damn bad._ And, really, I'm finding it hard to feel anything but the painful pulse beating steadily enough for me to dance out a samba to it.

"And if I have? I don't see how it's any of _your_ business." James quips, then turns his attention to mine. His fierce expression softens as he gazes down at me. "You okay?" he whispers, nuzzling my cheek with his nose. I can only nod against him. Even through the pain, I tell myself that this isn't just warmth, sincerity, and something akin to love that he's been throwing around; he's only faking it. "Want me to hit him some more?"

I give him a half-laugh, half-sob and shake my head.

"You sure? I'd do anything you asked, love."

I nod, tears welling as I give up trying to tell my heart that James is just putting on an excellent show. "I'm good, thanks."

"Tilpin! Potter! And... _Silk_...?"

I jerk my head up so fast that I feel a slight crick in my neck. Professor Longbottom is fighting the crowd to get to the three of us in the center.

"Hey, Professor," James greet casually, his arms still tightly around me like they can protect me from the world.

"I want to say I know better, but it looks like you lot have been fighting." Professor Longbottom pauses, his green eyes staring at James expectantly. "Potter?"

"Ah, well...Yes. Basically, yeah."

"Who started it?"

James sighs as though he's thinking. "Y'know... I don't rightly know, sir."

"Tilpin?" Professor Longbottom's gaze flits over to Erick momentarily.

Nothing audible comes from Erick.

"Miss Silk?"

"I'm fine, Professor," I squeak, realizing too late that I've answered a question he hasn't asked out loud.

Professor Longbottom sighs as well. "Potter, if you don't give me anything, I'm going to have to give you all detention."

"Oh, that'd be a shame, Professor," James remarks, barely hiding the sarcasm in his voice. I know how pissed off he is on that fact alone.

"And I might just bench you for the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin..."

James's hands tightens on me momentarily, but then loosens again. "I dunno what to tell you, sir." I feel him shrug. Guilt hits me, but I know we'll fare worse if we start trying to explain everything. I do _not_ need a howler from my parents.

"Right, that's it. The three of you head back to your common rooms. I'll inform Mr. Filch to expect you tonight at eight o'clock sharp. Potter, we'll discuss any potential benching next practice."

"C'mon, Elle," James whispers to me lowly, keeping his arm around me and leading me away. "I'll walk you, yeah?"

"Oh, Merlin... I-I can _not_ risk facing Perry right now." The idea fills my veins with ice.

James huffs and kisses my head. "I know place for us to go, then." I peer up at him, and he looks far too deeply into my eyes for my usual level of comfort. But, at the moment, I'm going to allow it. I need it and, weirdly, I think he does, too.

I'm a tumult of emotion.

On one hand, my heart is broken regarding all of the things that Erick implied; the fact that he was barely able to meet my eyes and hadn't even said my name. After a lifetime's worth of friendship, this is all it comes down to? It's incomprehensible that anyone could fall in love with me and, if they do, Erick thinks they're wasting their time? I just... _Merlin, that hurts worse than my hand._

But then, on the other hand, James said a hell of a lot of things he shouldn't have; even if he was faking it all, he didn't need to say _that_ much. And he sounded like he meant them. No amount of chastising on the part of my brain or my pain - thanks to Erick - can stop my heart from obsessing over that. No amount of distracting excitement can stop my brain from wondering how long until it starts to admit that I think we're not just faking it, after all.

I follow James up to the seventh floor, and my heart steels as we approach the portrait of the Fat Lady. James takes my hand and I tense at his touch, but it isn't all because of the ache I'm still feeling. His touch is gentle, like he remembers I'm hurt.

"It's okay," he murmurs, as if catching on to me fear. "Just trust me."

And I do.

I can finally breathe again when I realize James makes to pass the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. We continue on down the hall until we come to a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. James motions for me to stand back as he paces back-and-forth, muttering something I can't quite make out under his breath.

I'm glad I don't blink, or I would be missing it. A wooden door suddenly materializes in the empty spot opposite the tapestry. James opens the door and turns back to me with an extended hand for me to grab, casting me a short smile.

I take his hand and he guides me inside.

We walk into a small, yet cozy room with a ginormous fireplace taking up the entirety of the wall to left of us. A crackling, warm fire is alight and dancing hypnotically. There are two scarlet chaises situated in front of it, angled slightly inward towards each other, located over top of a Persian carpet with an intricate design showcasing various shades of blues, reds, and golds. On the opposing side of the room is a ginormous, dark-wood four-poster bed with cream-colored drapes and bedding to match, flanked by nightstands on either side and a trunk at the foot.

"W-Where _are_ we?" I wonder aloud in awe.

"The Room of Requirement," James answers casually, guiding me over to one of the chaises. "It-"

"-can only be discovered by someone who's in need," I finish as I sink down into the chair, gazing up above to the vaulted ceiling and arched, stained-glass windows. "Yeah, I've heard of it. I just didn't think it _actually_ existed."

"Not a lot of people know about it," James comments as he walks back toward the four-poster. "My dad told me about it because he and some of his mates used it for training purposes years ago during the Second Wizard War."

James is back at my side within a minute with a roll of bandages. "Here, let me see your hand," he states while taking my hand, then produces his wand. " _Episkey!"_ A cooling sensation spreads throughout my hand, then James follows that by wrapping it securely.

"Not too bad for your first hit," James murmurs humorously, the smile on his face hesitant like he's trying to bring one out in me, as he takes the seat adjacent to me.

"Who says it's my first?"

James breaks into what appears to be one of his unbidden grins. "The way you were _obviously_ not expecting it to hurt so much."

I cast him a small smile and look down at my injured hand. "Yeah, okay."

He leans forward, reaches over and takes my uninjured hand in his, grasping it softly. "Are you alright?" he asks and I look up to find an oddly vulnerable look on his face.

"I feel like I should be asking _you_ that question."

He shrugs. "It was hardly my first time."

I scoff. "Then why didn't you just hit Erick back? You could have avoided all...that..."

"All what, love?" he asks gently.

I swallow. "Oh, you know, the bruising and stuff..." I answer, totally _not_ referring to those things at all. Truth be told, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash at James whaling on Erick if I knew I could avoid hearing all that.

James tilts my chin up to face him and those gorgeous hazel eyes are pinned on me. "He had no right to say any of that, Elle," he states forcefully. "You're _not_ unlovable. Being with you is not a waste of time. And _I_ will always fight for you."

"I'm sorry I basically told the whole school you're in love with me..."

He snorts and runs a finger down my cheek before caressing it. "It's okay-"

I shake my head fervently. "It's _not_ okay, James. I mean, there's faking it, and then there's-"

"Elle, _nothing_ I said to that git was a lie..."

I huff a laugh, but I don't really hear him. "He was right - your reputation is going to tank. I've just made it all that much harder for you. Girls will expect more from you. I was supposed to make things easier for you, not worse. I'm sorry, James."

I find his eyes alight with humor and a smile playing at his lips. "Elle..."

"Thank you," I hear myself blurt out.

Confusion tinges whatever he finds humorous. "For what?"

I shrug. "Sticking up for me? Fighting for me" I narrow my eyes as I look him over, thinking. "Why _didn't_ you hit him the first time?"

James busies himself with checking my hand. "Because, as much as I hat the git, he was your best friend. I know what he means to you."

My heart feels like it's slammed itself against my ribs. "What?"

James shrugging, still not looking up at me. "Tilpin and I have a past, but _you_ have a past with him, too. And... I just figured that your past with him was more important at the time."

I bite my lip so I don't laugh out loud. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Won't tell them what?" he inquires.

"That James Potter is actually capable of thinking of the feelings of someone other than himself and his dick."

James's eyes meet mine quickly, a slight cocky smirk at his lips. "Ah, now. That's not strictly true..."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well, love, because there's only one other person on this planet whose feelings I'm capable of thinking about and, half the time, my cock's in on that anyway."

I look down to hide my smile because we both know that statement isn't entirely true, either; he cares about his friends and his family. "You're mental."

There's a pause, and when he speaks his voice is somewhat more serious. "Why did the git think I wouldn't call you by your nickname?"

I sigh. "I don't really know. Alaric Pucey called me Elle...once, I think? I told him only the people I care about are allowed to call me that, so he did it again. Then, I pantsed him. Erick was with me when it happened back in third year - maybe he thinks that because I didn't like you before."

"Yet you let me call you Elle..."

I huff a small laugh and watch my hand as I attempt to wriggle my fingers; it doesn't hurt as much and it's feeling less hot because of the cold charm that James used. "I let you do a lot of things I wouldn't let anyone else do."

"That so? Like what?" he asks playfully.

"Well, I let you tease me mercifully; I let you bring outs some seriously dubious tendencies in me; and..." My voice fades.

"And what?"

I look up at him slowly. There's something about this afternoon that makes me feel more for him than I think I should, and I don't even try to remind myself we're only fake dating. It's like I've forgotten, but more than I can't convince myself that absolutely everything we're doing is fake.

James Potter has legitimately stood up for me and, no matter how much hes said he doesn't care that he's ruined his reputation, I know he's feeling some way about it. The guy is well knows for his lack of attachment and he just all-but confirmed to numerous of our peers that he's fallen in love with - I'm supposed to be keeping the girls at away, not making them think he's a changed ma after all this. And, there's something about that level of commitment to my honor that makes me want to do some seriously inadvisable thing with him right now.

I'm getting a feeling that even if our dating is fake, whatever friendship we seem to have found doesn't have to go anywhere. And I _am_ attracted to him. I'm even starting think that, maybe, I actually like him.

"I let you make me thing you're a better man than Erick will ever be," I say slowly, remembering what I said to him at the beginning of all of this.

James's humor turns to surprise, then his eyes soften. "No one thinks I'm a good guy, Elle."

I shae my head. " _I_ don't think you're a bad guy."

"I'm shallow. I'm arrogant. I'm rude-"

"You're kind. You're sweet. You're funny. You're loyal to your friends."

"I put on a good show, love." I don't think he sounds like he's even convincing himself here, and I wonder why he seems to be trying so hard to convince me.

"You've already shown me more loyalty in a little over a month than Erick has in a long-arse time."

James clears his throat, like he's embarrassed, and looks down at my hand while running his fingers over the bruising gently. "What else do you let me do?"

" _This_ ," I mutter before leaning forward, cupping his cheek, and kissing him before my head talks me out of it. Because I do want to, even if a part of my knows it's setting myself up for a world of pain.

James responds almost instinctively; he quickly breaks away long enough to get to his feet, pulling me along with him, and captures my mouth. The warmth that shoots through is pure bliss. His mouth moves deftly over mine.

Though I started the kiss, within just a few seconds James is fully in control of it, teasing me with his tongue and nipping at my bottom lip. I press against him, my hand around his neck as I'm afraid he'll move away from me. However, he doesn't seem inclined to stop kissing me so, after a moment, I relax my hold.

I begin to play with the strands of hair curling over his collar as my other hand runs up the front of his white Oxford shirt and start loosening his tie. For some inexplicable reason, it's very intricately tied. I tug at it fruitlessly for a few seconds before he makes a low sound in the back of hir throat and let go of me long enough to reach up, push my hand out of the way, and untie the offending piece of clothing.

I sigh in happiness as I run my fingers over the strong column of his throat. James takes advantage of my sigh to deepen the kiss and m brain comes to a sputtering halt. Time ceases to exist and all I can do to hand out for dear life is kiss James back with all I have.

In this moment, I choose not to worry that I'm sending him the wrong message. I don't worry that I'm sending _myself_ the wrong message.

I just let myself like James Potter for a little while.

* * *

 **A/N** : I think this chapter serves as the halfway point of our story of Elle and James. It's sobering and somewhat sad to think about, honestly. I've grown to love these two characters so much... Sorry if I seem a little depressing, I just _really_ don't want this story to end. However, we do have a little ways to go, so I am looking forward to that. :)

I truly enjoyed writing this chapter. Elle sort of just spoke for herself, honestly. If you're a writer, I think you know what I mean. Some characters truly have a mind of their own - James _definitely_ does lol.

Also, I want to take a moment to thank you all so, _so_ much for reading/reviewing/favoriting my story! It truly makes my heart happy knowing that someone out there enjoys my writing! 3

I hope you all are doing well! Please know that if you ever need anyone to talk to, just let me know! With all the sickness and self-isolating going on in the world, it's easy to feel scared and alone. No one should _ever_ feel that.

I hope to have a new chapter updated within the next week. So please be on the look out for that!

Much love,  
Dev.


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